Don't Forget My Love
by Waytoointoerik
Summary: Miserable rogue surgeon, Erik Chalon, creates his Christine when an amnesia patient falls into his lap.  E/C only.  Waytoointoerik style.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all, I know its been a long time since you heard from me. Its been a strange time for me. Potophan and I are still writing together and we are working on the road to becoming published (it is a rocky road filled with a lot of pot holes and pit stops). A few years ago we really sat back and assessed the writing and I realized I had a lot of work to do. We took couple of years and a ton of classes and have been finishing up some original work, as well as beginning to submit.

But there is always Erik.

I have been really stressed out lately, and I think when I get stressed I want to go back to something that makes me happy and comforts me, and for me its Erik. There was a story that always stuck in my head, and we finally stepped back from all our hard and fast goals and said – "It's time to tell it." Fan fiction has brought me a lot of joy over the years, so I hope you enjoy this latest incarnation.

I have a facebook account at WayToo IntoErik if any of you want to friend me, and our blog is going to have some great contests etc at www (dot) leigherikson (dot) blogspot (dot) com.

Reminder about WTIE stories and a word from the legal department: _Disclaimer: I own nothing of Phantom of the Opera; they belong to Leroux, ALW and Kay. If I owned anything remotely close to Erik, trust me I would never write about it, I would be too busy with him. Warning! This is an AU fic! Beware before you read further!_

_A huge thank you to my best friend, editor, writing partner, psychologist and a host of other things – POTOPHAN1010 Let's find the fun again._

So without further ado: Here is Erik Chalon:

Don't Forget My Love:

Prologue:

Erik Chalon put the last stitch through the face of the corpse and stepped back. "What do you think?" He clenched his hand along with his teeth, thankful the horrible scraping sound reverberating through his head would drown out the answer he was about to receive.

Dr. Anton Pratch reached up and adjusted the large overhead light, leaning down and moving his face closer to the incision site.

"Just say it." Erik stared into the light. Everything in the stark mortuary was blaring white. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, he wished he could disappear into the light.

His mentor smacked his lips together and finally answered. "If this man were alive, the incision would definitely show once he healed."

He pressed his nails into his palm, a little harder and he would break the skin. "I adjusted the muscle."

"That would definitely help with the underlying structure." Anton said.

"It's still not right!" He couldn't stand there any longer while his work was picked apart. He threw his tools onto to the tray, the sound of metal upon metal echoing as he ran in direction of release.

He found himself in the bathroom, blinking away the spot in front of his eyes caused from staring into the light. He glanced into the mirror, maybe one day he would finally destroy the image, and he lifted his hands, clawing his nails down his face.

The warm blood ran down his face as he exhaled. The sting of the injury coupled with the accompanying dizziness couldn't be beat by any drug. It was out, the misery was being let loose.

Once again he raised his hands. He was the only person on the planet whose face was made better by the scars he left behind. If only he could succeed in actually ripping his face off.

"Stop!" Anton burst into the bathroom, threw his medical bag down and grabbed Erik's hands. "Don't do this!"

He tensed against being restrained and began to shake. "I'm a failure."

Anton pushed him back and stepped in front of him. "You are going to be magnificent."

"You forget I'm not a doctor. Where am I going to practice?" He forced his muscles to relax knowing Anton wouldn't let go until he did.

"Look at me." Anton's tone turned parental.

Erik focused on his voice.

"I have told you that we will find a way. People will pay huge amounts for the talent you have right here." Anton squeezed his hands and let go, bending down to get his bag. "No one is doing what you are. They will flock to you." He poured antiseptic on a piece of gauze. "My hands won't allow me to work anymore, but with my training and your ideas, the possibilities are endless."

Erik didn't move while Anton tended to him wondering why the man even bothered, his face looked like an infected mass of unwanted flesh even when it wasn't bleeding or injured.

"You need to keep your focus." Anton continued. "You are going to change lives. You will have everything you ever wanted."

Everything he ever wanted. Erik shut his eyes at Anton's words. He would never have everything he ever wanted because he only wanted one thing, the love of another. Since his wish wasn't an option, he would have to settle again. He glanced over at the mirror. "I should start wearing a mask again."

"This is the only mask you need." Anton bent down and pulled a surgical mask out of his bag. "You will be a surgeon."

But not a doctor. Erik filled in the rest of Anton's sentence. Another settlement.

"Get me a new body." He may as well get back to work.

"Come." Anton threw his supplies back in his bag and led Erik back to the where the mortuary kept the bodies. "I have been saving the best for last." He rolled out a drawer.

Erik held his breath, the battered body before him had seen better days, the face was in shreds, broken, bruised.

"Car accident." Anton told him. "Fix her."

"If the woman lived she would have wished she didn't." Erik picked up a scalpel and made his plan, before he approached his next patient bent over diffusing the adrenaline coursing through his body.

Anton put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "If this woman lived, she would have wished she had you as a surgeon."

"She would never know who I was." Erik straightened up.

"It doesn't matter." Anton motioned forward. "You will be a surgeon, and your next patient will be living."

"It's about time." Erik started his first incision.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all,

First thank you for the overwhelming response to the prologue. I am having a ball with this Erik. The reviews have been really good for me, I have been really stressed out! I want to offer a huge thank you to my beta, writing partner, etc, POTOPHAN1010 who is incredible.

Also, we are running something fun over at our blog where we will write a scene based on your recommendations. We will also do some fun contests for people who comment with some old stories, etc. So come on down! The blog is at www (dot) leigherikson (dot) blogspot (dot) com.

Anyways – Disclaimer – Don't own Erik wish I did! Thank you

Chapter 1

Don't Forget My Love

"It's turning dark, I'll go." Erik checked his patient's stitches once more. The son of the billionaire should have never got his face in the way of the propeller. "I need some air."

"This was quite a case. The previous doctor really botched the job. You were his last hope. No one else would touch him." Anton came over and adjusted one of the drains. "Take Fletcher with you."

Erik shooed Anton's hand away and readjusted the drain. "I'm not a child, I can walk in the dark alone." Night was the only time he would venture outside.

"Do it for me." Anton turned to him.

"Fine." Erik pointed to the patient. "Stay here and call me if you need me."

"I will. Once everything checks out, the recovery center will be here for him." Anton sat down.

"You know that was a six figure surgery." Erik backed up out of the room.

"Yes, that's why its even better that we made seven figures." Anton chuckled.

Erik waved as he left, taking off his gloves, cap and surgical gown and pulling on a hooded jacket. He opened the door from the surgery suite to find Fletcher standing there.

Fletcher pointed toward the back of the building.

Erik nodded. "Yes, we need to go. I need some air and we'll pick up a few things." He assessed his friend and employee. The man stood over two inches taller than him and was almost as wide. Fletcher joined them after Erik performed a surgery on his sisters while when they were still in Europe. Though a man of few words, he did ask to join Erik. Erik agreed on the spot.

"The boy?" Fletcher asked.

"He will be fine. No one will ever be perfect, but he will now be known as the playboy with a few scars. Women will flock to him." Erik swallowed down the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Everyone should be as lucky.

Fletcher crossed his arms.

"Don't worry. We will be back before the recovery center comes to pick him up." Erik assured him, pleased Fletcher only trusted himself to move the patients.

Fletcher nodded and the men went toward the back door of their brownstone that served as their office and home when a form slipped between them and the exit.

"It's cold outside." A woman's voice announced as a scarf was lassoed around Erik's neck.

Yes, it may be cold, but Erik had not doubts why this was given to him. He wrapped the scarf around as much of his face as he could hide and put on a pair of dark sunglasses even though the sun was rapidly disappearing today. "Thank you, Olena."

"I also need some things." Olena thrust a paper at Fletcher.

Fletcher showed the paper to Erik.

"Whatever you need." Erik's voice came out muffled from the scarf. He tilted his head toward her. Olena joined him and Anton before Fletcher, simply stating that the two of them needed a woman to tend them and she needed to get out of Russia.

"Everything is for you anyway." Olena opened the door for them.

"When you perform surgery for ten hours at a time with no break, you can be particular too." He was through with concessions, he had enough money not only to open up a stand, but a mega mart. Instead of a surgeon, he settled for being a doctor. Instead of being able to walk in the light, he settled for living in the darkness. Instead of having the love of one special person, he settled for a makeshift family of people only concerned about how much money he could make with his magic hands. He would not concede on what he could control. He would have only the finest.

"Get your air." Olena reached over and lifted Erik's hood over his head.

Erik put his hands on his hips and stared up into the night sky. He may live in New York, a metropolis with everything to offer, but once they got here five years ago, he realized he might as well live anywhere. His whole universe consisted of his brownstone, the ally behind his brownstone and the few merchants he could walk into without gasps and stares.

Today's surgery ran much longer than he anticipated. Once he opened up that boy's face, the repair work was much more extensive. Doctors always had a way of making things worse. Now he paced around in a circle waiting for Fletcher to come out from the bakery.

At last Fletcher returned. He came forward and handed Erik a small bag. "From Mrs. O'Connell."

Erik pursed his lips, reached in the bag and pulled out a huge decorated sugar cookie. This one was a multi-colored butterfly. The bakery owner always gave him one. The woman thought he was slow or deficient and always spoke very loud when he came into the store. At least she was kind to him. "She treats me like I'm two years old." He moved his scarf down and took a bite of the wing, allowing the overly sweet frosting to take away the sour swill rising in the back of his throat. "What is Olena making for dinner tonight?"

"She had me get lamb." Fletcher adjusted the bags.

"Tell her to make sure it's well done." He walked ahead with his treat back toward the brownstone. They rounded the corner around a building and Erik stopped when the ambulance to the recovery center was already there.

Fletcher grunted and turned to Erik.

"They're early." Erik wrapped his scarf back around his face and held out his hands for Fletcher's packages. "Go ahead."

Fletcher thrust the bags to Erik and ran ahead.

Erik took his time making his way back to brownstone. He never talked to any of the outsiders. Anton was the front, talking to patients, their families, and any vendor. Once more he stayed in the shadows, but he made his way closer as his patient was brought out on a stretcher. Fletcher was in the thick of the operation while Anton directed. Everything was routine until a woman's voice interrupted them.

"Oh, wait. Please wait."

Erik watched as only a small hand appeared out of toward the yelling. This wasn't Olena's thick Russian accent with a harsh undertone this was the voice of a younger woman, light and lilting, unsure and fresh. It was a rare occasion that a woman came from the recovery center and they were usually older nurses. He waited, keeping his focus on the door of the ambulance, and clenched his fist when she appeared.

He spent every moment of his life around broken and mangled faces and bodies. In the instance where he wasn't working or studying or alone, he was with Anton, Fletcher and Olena, who aside from their outward appearance were as destroyed as himself.

Out from the ambulance stepped a woman. A young woman, who was not there because she had to be repaired, but was instead a perfect specimen of the human form.

He didn't move, willing himself to blend into the background while he began his examination.

She needed nothing. Not a thing. Rather than the loose fitting scrubs that most from the recovery center wore, she was in black fitted pants and matching v-neck tshirt showing off her ample, natural curves. Only the stethoscope around her neck betrayed her as someone working in the medical profession.

The black clothes showed off her perfect light skin, and he moved his focus up to her face. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail giving him the perfect view of her features. He couldn't have created them better if he tried. Everything was in perfect proportion, almost. He swallowed. Had he sculpted her face he admitted he would have made her lips less full, her eyes smaller, but it was that slight flaw that made her perfect. No, she needed nothing.

He knew he shouldn't have stood there, mouth half open, staring, but he couldn't stop. Now she checked the IV and the patient's vitals. Her youth showed in her movements. She was quick, but double-checked her work, her touch was soft.

"Do you have his chart?" She pressed her palms to her chest as if she were asking Anton a great favor.

Anton held the chart out with both his hands, basically presenting it to her. Erik almost expected him to bow or kneel.

"Thank you." She opened the chart, turned through the pages and stopped, holding one paper up and biting her lip.

"Is there something wrong?" Anton asked.

Erik wondered the same thing. He wanted to lean forward, but resisted.

She lowered the paper and lifted it again.

"Miss, is there something wrong?" Anton tried again.

For a moment she looked up as if she were running a mental checklist and allowing him to get a glimpse of her neck.

Erik watched her neck actually move from her swallowing before she spoke.

"His medications aren't listed here."

"I listed his medications in the chart." Anton pointed.

She shook her head.

"They are in his chart." Anton took the chart from her.

Erik chewed the inside of his mouth. How dare Anton take the chart away from her like she was some imbecile? She was thorough, he could tell. If she said the medications weren't listed, they weren't listed.

She lowered her head. "I also need his prescriptions."

Anton looked through the chart himself and without a word darted back into the brownstone.

She stood there without moving and then turned her to her coworkers. "Can we make sure the patient is secure, please?"

Erik couldn't stop a frown. No please was necessary, everyone around her should be jumping to do what she needed. He knew he would be if he could get anywhere near her.

Anton returned with the chart and a bag. "Here. Everything is in order."

"Okay." She took her items and turned her back to Anton.

Erik nodded as she looked in the bag and rechecked the chart. She was a good girl. He found one thing she needed, confidence.

She retrieved a clipboard and faced Anton. "Everything is accounted for now. I have his release papers. That was quite a surgery."

"The surgery lasted almost ten hours." Anton told her.

"Oh." She stared at Anton, her eyes becoming even larger.

Erik ground his teeth together. That was his look Anton was taking. It was his surgery that took almost ten hours.

"It is very intricate work, and tiring, I apologize if I missed a few things." Anton lifted his chin toward her.

"You are a busy surgeon."

"Yes I am." Anton nodded.

Yes he was? Anton's words echoed in his ears. Anton was a busy surgeon? No, Anton was the front and anesthesiologist. Erik he couldn't watch anymore. His body became hot. He was confined and needed to get out of there, needed to be free. Not caring who saw him, he stormed straight ahead, pushing passed Anton, and turning to get a better view of the nurse up close. Damn, she was perfect.

He spun back as he entered almost colliding with Olena.

"Give me your things." She took the bags from Erik. "Did Mrs. O'Connell give you another cookie?" She brushed some crumbs off his coat.

He peeked behind him and watched while Anton sign the release papers, and turned back to Olena.

"I'll make you some breakfast soon. You eat too many sweets." She gave him one more brush and turned toward the kitchen.

"I better watch it. I wouldn't want to get fat." He stomped away, the effort of every step weighing on him. He was a dog. A very well trained, well fed dog, but one that was trapped as a pet. He was basically neutered.

He made his way up the two flights of stairs to his suite of rooms. For any other man, this would be considered luxury living at its finest. He had furnished his bedroom in all ultra-modern furniture. Everything from his dark wood floor to the light grey walls to the black and chrome furniture was new and perfect. Erik abhorred antiques or furniture that showed its age, and preferred the clean lines of modern décor, it was unmarred and lacked history, perfect.

His private study was decorated the same, and his bathroom was done in all of the most expensive marbles he could find. Anton actually located Erik's special stone in Italy and had it shipped over here.

Normally this was his sanctuary, and when he wasn't doing his first love, performing surgeries, he loved his time up here where he could relax and read or study. For one very brief moment he let his mind wander to what it would be like to have a woman like the one he had seen downstairs up here in his suite. She needed nothing, he needed everything.

He shook his head and tore his scarf off his face as he realized that this whole facade was nothing more than a cage. "A fancy cage to hold a castrated animal." He put his hands over his eyes. Never would someone like that beautiful, untamed, creature be interested in him. No one would ever want him the way he wanted someone.

Though his suite was large, surrounded by windows, he was confined. He needed to be let out, and for the first time since he could remember he lifted his hands and dug his nails into his face, tearing through his flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi all, thank you again for your incredible support of this story. I think if it weren't for this story, my blood pressure would be off the charts! As always I appreciate your comments and reviews more than you know. A huge thanks to POTOPHAN1010 for her edits, counseling, etc. Disclaimer – Don't own Phantom. Also, I think there was an error with my blog, but for those who want to participate in some fun things and contests I'm having over there, please go to www(dot)leigherikson(dot)blogspot(dot)com.

Thanks again.

WTIE

Chapter Two

Dana Marlon stood the moment the light above one of her patient's room lit up. Someone needed her and taking her chart with her, she rushed to the room to see what she could do.

"Mrs. Sanders?"

The woman groaned and held out her hand.

Dana reached over and took her hand. "Are you in pain?"

The woman nodded.

"I can get you something for that." She gave her patient a pat. "How about some water?"

Her patient shook her head.

"Juice?" Dana raised her voice trying to make her choice sound more appealing.

"No."

"What can I get you?"

"Diet soda." The woman managed a smile. "I have to have diet soda."

"You really shouldn't have that yet." Dana told her.

"I have to have it so I can heal properly." The woman narrowed her eyes. "It is what I need, you are here to serve me."

Dana let go of her hand and pressed her lips together.

"My doctor told me this was like a spa, and I want some diet soda." The woman waved her away.

Dana wanted to say she was a nurse, not a nursemaid, she wanted to tell her the carbonation may hurt her stomach so soon after her surgery. She wanted to tell her this wasn't a spa, it was a recovery center. She wanted to take a glass of diet soda and pour on this lady's freshly stitched face.

Instead she backed away to retrieve the drink.

"Miss?" The woman called to her.

Dana stopped.

"Do you think I look better?" The woman lifted her chin. "Younger?"

Dana bit her lip. She had no clue what the woman looked like before, but right now it appeared as if someone took a board and beat her face in with it. In her two weeks at this job she noticed all the facelift patients not only looked like Mrs. Sanders, but acted like her as well.

She wanted to tell her she looked like crap. "I'm sure you'll be very happy with the results."

Dana stepped out of the room and peeked at her other patient, the man she helped pick up from the Russian reconstructive surgeon that evening. This man still slept, and she tiptoed in to check his IV. His surgery was no facelift, she had studied the man's photos and it appeared as if he would heal very well. The surgeon at that practice was quite talented.

She walked through the nurse's station, glancing at the stack of insurance forms to be filled out. When she became a nurse she dreamed of being the right hand go-to girl of some brilliant surgeon. Back in Nebraska she was at least beginning to assist in surgeries, but then Garrett told her she needed to move.

Another light caught her attention, this time from her phone.

Her stomach tightened, it had to be him. She looked all around to make sure no one was around and almost fell trying to catch the call before she missed him. "Hello?" She straightened up and tried to sound breathy, alluring.

"When are you off?" Garrett yelled into the phone over the sounds of people, banging and other ruckus going on in the background.

She breathed and turned to the clock. Maybe he had time to see her tonight. Their schedules didn't seem to coincide. "About an hour."

"We'll just miss each other." He said.

She didn't answer, trying to figure out where Garrett's whereabouts.

"Hey, you're not upset are you?"

"Where are you?" Wherever her fiancé was, it seemed like quite a commotion was happening.

"On my way out. The firm got a big computer contract."

"Oh." She squeezed her eyes shut. Computer contracts meant weeks away. When he overhauled the computer system at the hospital in Nebraska, he also overhauled her life. He was the man from the city taking the girl from the country and giving her a dream life.

"Hey, no sadness. When I get back I'll see you."

No talk of missing her, only the fact they were missing each other. No talk of the place they were supposed to find together, or the wedding they were supposed to be planning. "When will you be back?"

"You know how these things go." He laughed.

She shook her head in any attempt to clear it. "Is there anything you want me doing while you're gone?" All she needed to do next is get down her knees and beg him to throw her a bone.

"Take your time to learn the city and start making some friends."

He wasn't giving her a bone he was kicking her to the curb. She willed herself not to cry, but was betrayed when she sniffed.

"When I get back I'll plan something special, just you and me. Hang in there. Can you do that?"

She nodded into the phone, but if he wouldn't give her a bone, she needed to go digging. "Do you miss me?" In case he forgot he hadn't seen her all week either.

He laughed again before he answered. "Sure. I just need to go on this trip. I'll call you when I get there. You know I miss you, baby."

She pressed her hand to her chest.

"I'm sorry I left so fast, but we'll like the money later. We'll be together."

She exhaled. He was talking about the future. "I love you."

She waited to hear the words back, but instead there was a round of cheers in the background. "Garrett?"

"You too. I have to run."

The phone went dead and Dana pulled it back from her ear and stared at the screen as the light dimmed. "He's just busy. He has to do his job."

The light above Mrs. Sander's room went off again and Dana put the phone down to get the woman's soda.

KKKKKKKKK

Erik forgot.

He forgot what it was like to let it out, let the blood ooze down his face. He forgot what it was like to forget. For those few minutes of pain nothing else mattered, the pain took everything, all his attention.

Maybe he could forget a little more, and he repeated the action, yelling out as he made his way down his face again.

"Erik!" Anton burst into the room. "Stop! What's the matter?" He grabbed Erik's hands and pried them off his face.

Erik resisted.

"Erik!" Anton screamed.

Anton wouldn't leave until he stopped and he loosened the tension in his arms causing Anton to fall back. "Leave me alone." He headed straight to his bathroom.

Anton followed. "What's happening?"

Erik went to the sink and took a towel.

"Tell me, Erik."

He glanced over at Anton who was holding the papers to the recovery center. Her name was there and he grabbed the papers holding them out until he saw the shy beauty's signature.

He shut his eyes before he read the name. Her name would make her real, and he tore the papers to shreds throwing them up creating a strange confetti as the pieces floated down.

"What are you doing?" Anton bent down and started picking up the pieces. "What is this?" He held up a fist full of the tattered remnants.

Erik wiped his face on the towel and hit the papers out of Anton's hand. "It represents everything I will never have."

"I don't understand." Once more Anton tried to collect the papers.

"Leave them." Erik stepped on the papers.

"What won't you have?" Anton stood up.

Only able to shake his head, Erik walked back to his bedroom.

"You're a surgeon like you wanted to be." Anton said.

"I'm a rogue surgeon, no doctor. One day I will get us all thrown in jail for operating without a license. You can take credit for that as well." Erik looked out the window. His bedroom overlooked the city side of the brownstone, not the ally.

"You knew it would be like this. You said you would rather not be seen." Anton went to his side. "You can stop anytime, you have enough money to retire and do whatever you want."

"Then what am I supposed to do, sit and rot by myself?" He wondered what that woman was doing right now.

"You have helped many people. The work you do pro bono is beyond compare." Anton reminded him.

"Yes my reward for operating on the rich and deformed." Erik inhaled. He insisted that for every paying surgery he performed he also helped someone that really needed it. "They never even know it's me."

"You are not alone. You have me and Olena and Fletcher. That is more than you ever thought you would have."

"But not what I want." Erik lowered his voice, not sure why he let that much out.

"You want a woman."

Erik didn't answer. Everyone, including himself, tended to forget he was still a man, a young man, with needs and desires.

"Maybe you need to look at what you do have…." Anton put his hand on Erik's shoulder.

"Instead of what will never be." Erik moved away.

Milan pointed to the papers on the floor. "Was it the nurse?"

"I don't know." Erik walked across the room, crouched down and started picking up the scraps.

Anton stayed silent, only coming over to help.

"She was very beautiful, and unmarred." Erik stared down at the papers. "It's strange."

"What is?"

"How much you can learn about someone if you just watch them for a few minutes. I could tell she was smart but she was scared. What was she scared of?" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyhow. I don't know who she is and if she knew me, she wouldn't want to."

"Maybe…" Anton's voice hinted at hope. Santa Clause who promised the poor boy a pony when there was no way that his parents could afford it.

"Don't go there." Hope didn't exist. She would never want him. Erik collected the rest of the scraps of paper and threw them in the garbage. "Get another copy of the release papers tomorrow. How was the patient?"

"I'll check on him tomorrow, if I need you, we will arrange that."

"When's the next surgery?"

"I have a wife whose husband decided to use her as a punching bag." Anton motioned toward the door. "Do you want to start making a plan?"

He was a dog, and the new surgery was his bone. "I feel very old." He followed Milan down to the medical offices. All he needed was a leash.

"You're too young to be old." Milan chuckled and guided him to his chair.

He sat down at his desk and began studying his next case and started making notes as he looked at the woman's picture and x-rays before him. Whoever had done this to her had really made a mess, but he wondered if this woman had known love a least a little. He shook his head and went back to trying to see how he could fix her and didn't go to bed until the sun was rising again.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello all,

Thank you all for your great support of this story. I am really having a great time with it, and hopefully have some great stuff planned for it. Here is the next installment, we are getting to the heart of the matter. Huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010 who has always and continues to be an amazing support system for me.

Also, I'll try this again. We are having a little fun over at our blog with some prizes and such so come on over and check it out at www(dot)leigherikson(dot)blogspot(dot)com Obviously replace the dots with real dots.

I really appreciate the reviews so thank you I look forward to hearing how you like the chapter.

Here we go…WTIE

Chapter Three:

Erik crouched down behind a bush and adjusted his sunglasses and scarf to ensure his face was well hidden, even in the dark.

He glanced up at the moon, tonight it was full, he would be able to see her even better. She should be exiting the recovery center any moment now.

His body tensed and he turned his focus to the exit. For the last two weeks he watched her.

No, that wasn't right. For the last two weeks he researched her, he waited for her, he dreamed about her, he protected her. Even from afar.

Once he pieced together the paper and deciphered her name, he indulged himself and looked up Dana Marlon on the Internet.

He never meant to show up at her place of work two days later. He only wanted to see her again. Maybe he wanted to discredit her, or realize he built up the Nebraskan native in his own mind. Every day she was more beautiful, more ethereal, more miserable, and more alone.

Maybe it was the dream.

The dream of having someone.

The dream of being able to care for someone.

The dream of simply being able to walk someone home.

Now, two weeks later, rather than wanting to rip himself apart at the sight of her, he wanted to be near her. He swore to himself never to take it too far and limited himself to secretly walking her home. A woman of her caliber shouldn't be on the streets of New York alone at night.

Now he knew her moods, he knew her. Sometimes she would leave work humming and smiling to herself, sometimes on the phone. He especially enjoyed it when she talked to herself and he could hear her speak.

He looked down at his watch and held his breath. Any second.

The door opened at last.

She came out, a vision in light blue scrubs and her hair back.

"She should put a sweater on, its chilly." Erik whispered to himself.

She stopped on the steps to the recovery center and Erik stood up. Something was different today. She never stopped before.

Today, she stopped and wrapped her arms around herself.

Erik bit his lip. She really should put a sweater on.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, holding it up to her face and shaking her head.

She hit some buttons on her phone and shifted her weight from one foot to another.

"What's wrong?"

She looked at her phone again. She stopped moving.

Erik wanted to go over to her and clenched his fist.

She wiped her eyes.

Erik needed to give her a moment and turned down to the ground. He was practically standing in a planter with a small white and yellow flower that he bent down to pick. Maybe it would make her smile.

He watched her put the phone back in her bag and she began her trek to her apartment.

Erik did as always and followed, staying in the shadows, keeping his footsteps light and having a connection to someone if only for a few moments.

She stopped again. Not her usual stop to glance at something in a window or look up at the sky. She stopped abruptly and turned behind her causing Erik to back up against a building. From his vantage point he could clearly make out the tears streaming down her face.

He didn't move. The last thing he needed to do was scare her.

She looked up and down the street, and Erik could have sworn she looked right where he hid. She put her hand to her chest, turned back and resumed her travel.

Once Erik breathed, he allowed her to get a few paces ahead and followed, staying way back as she rounded the corner and made her way to her apartment building. After another round of wiping her eyes, she trudged up the stairwell to her apartment. She opened the door and turned back, looking around and shaking her head. At last she went inside.

Erik waited. He didn't want to leave her crying and he wondered if maybe she felt his presence. He needed to do something, and though he swore to himself he would never take this too far he tiptoed up to her apartment.

Adrenaline pumped through his body and his heart seized. All she needed to do was open the door and he would be found out, but he still managed to place the small flower he picked for her on her doormat.

With his gloved hand, he touched the door and rushed down the stairs. By the time he was down the stairs he couldn't catch his breath, and he hid around the building, right into a dead end, pulling down his scarf and inhaling the cool night air.

Out of nowhere the click of a door echoed through and he hit is head on the brick wall behind him. "Damn." He whispered, not sure if he should take the chance and run, or stay still and hope no one cornered him.

He didn't have time to make a decision, only a second later, the door closed and he waited a few minutes more before coming out from his hiding place. The street was empty and he went to her stairwell.

The flower was gone.

"The patient is ready." Anton announced. "Fletcher, the recovery center is here."

Erik straightened up and closed his book. If the recovery center was there, Dana may be there as well.

He tried to stay away. He did. He couldn't take the chance of being found out, but he couldn't stop, and ever since the night where she took his flower he tried to think of a way to he could approach her without losing the small something he had. "It's really nothing." He said to himself and stood. The fact was ever since that first time, Dana had never come back to the brownstone. Still, he began to shake, what if nothing could turn to something?

Fletcher dashed by to help the patient and Erik wrapped himself in his scarf and donned his sunglasses and followed him. With the ruckus of loading the patient it was easy to sneak outside and hide by the wall. He crossed his arms and waited, glancing down at the asphalt.

"Here is the patient's chart." Anton said.

Erik closed his eyes preparing himself for a male voice to answer.

"Do you have his medications?"

It was her. The floating, dreamlike voice that seemed as if it only wanted a place to land. He looked up right as she came out of the ambulance. Cream colored scrubs, hair back, a blush on her cheeks. Gorgeous.

"Hold on." Anton turned and went back inside.

Dana moved aside as the medical assistants brought the patient in the vehicle and she stepped out and stretched.

Erik swallowed. The way she held her arms up allowed him not only to make out the outline of her figure, but she also revealed a bit of her stomach. A perfect creamy white like the rest of her.

She breathed in, put her arms down and then did the most amazing thing.

She looked right at him.

Now was his chance. He could walk right over to her. Talk to her. Say anything. A hello, an acknowledgement. A real conversation with a real person.

"Here's everything." Anton came out with a bag.

Dana turned to Anton and took the bag. "Th…Thank you."

Erik clenched his fist and pounded it on the wall behind him for Anton interrupting at exactly that time. It was nothing. The look was nothing. He made it up in his mind.

She signed the release papers and handed Anton his set. Anton returned inside but before she closed the door to the ambulance she looked at him again and nodded.

He stood in the ally watching the ambulance drive away. It was a nod, a true nod, and in a world where everyone who was conscious avoided him at all costs, it was a connection.

He needed to think about what his plan was now and he forced himself away from the wall, his knees threatening to buckle. He cleared his throat, took a breath and went inside, stopping short before he collided with Anton, Olena and Fletcher. Olena and Fletcher looked at each other and left.

"What do you want, old man?" Erik unfurled himself from his scarf and tossed his sunglasses on the side table.

"How are you?" Anton tapped his foot.

Erik sucked in his cheeks. Anton knew, he was sure Fletcher and Olena knew. Fine. "I am very well this fine evening, yourself?"

"Your surgery was perfect." Anton glanced down at the discharge papers.

"Yes, of course it was." He squared his shoulders and primed himself for the next question.

"In honor of your wonderful surgery, why don't we go out for breakfast tonight?"

"Go ahead and ask." Erik pointed at him, he would make sure to draw the first weapon.

"What?" Anton shrugged his shoulders.

"Leave me alone." He went to leave, make his plans, and be left alone.

Anton caught him. "I know you watch her."

Erik clenched his teeth. "Is that a crime?"

"It's just…" Anton pursed his lips before he finished his statement.

"Just what?" Erik grabbed his sleeve. "Just what?"

Anton stared at him. "What do you expect to happen?"

"You're no different." He pulled Anton closer. "I'm nothing to you but hands for hire. Maybe, just maybe someone like her could look beyond and actually want to be with someone who would worship her!" His blood rushed through his veins causing him to be come hot, charged, needing to explode. "Maybe she could be different." He thrust Anton away from him.

He ran up the room to his suite and headed straight for the bathroom, lifting his hands and holding them out like claws. He needed to get rid of himself. He placed his nails near his flesh. A woman like Dana would never want him after she saw what he could do to himself.

"No." He shut his eyes and forced his hands down, clutching the edge of the counter. A woman like Dana, would never want him if he destroyed himself. He couldn't resort to those tactics.

He looked into the mirror. Anton was right. The ridges and irregularities only made worse or better by the scars that crisscrossed his face, some physician made, some homemade. What did he expect to happen when all he did was sit on the sidelines, a spectator in his own life?

"She nodded at me." He spoke the words aloud. The moment she acknowledged him he was no longer a bystander. She would be off her shift in a few hours, and for the first time he wouldn't be going to her as merely as a passive observer, he would formulate a plan to be more than part of the scenery.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi all, here is the next installment. I hope you all continue to enjoy and let me know. Just to clarify, this is an E/C story, just give it about 2 more chappies

Again, huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010!

Thank you all!

WTIE

Disclaimer, I own nothing, wish I did.

Chapter Four:

The sun was just starting to rise when Dana left the recovery center. Erik let her get a little ahead and followed, this time not only to watch her go home, but to gain the information he needed.

A man like himself couldn't simply go trotting up to her, this had to be timed right, and exactly like he began any surgery, he would assess, analyze and make his plan before going in. He wasn't sure how long this would take, or what he would ultimately do, but a newfound energy overtook him, at least something was happening.

This time in New York was his time. New York wasn't the city that never slept, one just needed to know when and where to look. At this time of day, away from Times Square and other crowded locations, the city was napping.

She left the center, walked down the stairs and across the street.

Erik leaned back to see her better.

Where he knew her moods, watched her walk through the city daydreaming, or even weeping, once again today things changed.

She was crying. Not a tear trickle, but a definite cry, complete with gasping and covering her eyes.

She stopped at the corner and Erik hid behind a truck, grinding his teeth. Someone, something made her cry, and his first thought was to run to comfort her.

He couldn't do any such thing. For now he would have to let her suffer by herself and try to find out what caused this.

Then her phone rang. A simple ring, one that came with the phone echoed through the block, and Erik held his breath praying this would be the answer.

"Hello." Her voice was broken, Erik debated if he needed to go help her pick up the pieces. Instead he opted to spy around the truck.

"Yes, I'm upset." The phone was up to her ear and she stared down at the sidewalk. "I thought you were coming home today."

Erik balled his hand into a fist and pressed it into his thigh. He knew she lived alone. Who could be coming to her home?

Dana paced a couple steps up and back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "We had plans."

His teeth mashed against one another, any harder and he was sure he would chip one.

"Don't you want to see me?" She covered her eyes with her hand.

Erik lifted his own hand and grabbed the hood of his jacket. Who wouldn't want to see her? He would give anything to share a cup of coffee with her.

"Yes, I'll meet you." Dana whispered.

Erik focused on her and anything she said.

She took a paper and pen out of her bag. "Elite Café? Where is that?"

Erik knew where the café was, only a few blocks from his brownstone.

She wrote down her notes. "I'll see you at nine tonight." She held the phone away from her and pushed a button on her phone.

She stared at the device for a moment and looked up.

Two glistening wet trails paved their way down her face. Her tears caught the morning light making her appear as if she were dusted with jewels.

Erik followed her home, holding himself back from bursting and running up to her right now.

Now if he planned this right, he was armed with all the information he needed to make his move. He would show everyone. Whoever she was meeting hurt her, and even with his face, he now had the opening to show her what it would be like to have someone who would sacrifice everything for her happiness. Now was the time to be real.

Dana twisted her napkin and twisted around in her seat searching for Garrett in the crowded café. He said he only had an hour before he had to go on another trip, and now it was nine fifteen. They had a ton of things they needed to go over before he left again.

She lifted her phone for the thirty or fortieth time. No text, no missed call, no nothing except a that empty, hollow sickness centering right in her stomach, letting her know that something was definitely wrong, she only needed it confirmed. The horrible part about that particular feeling was that it was always instantly alleviated once you knew your fate. "But normally it's for nothing." She whispered to herself.

"Do you want some more water?" The waiter came over and raised his eyebrows at her and glanced over at the empty chair on the other side of the table.

"He should be here soon." She tried to smile. Friday night in a busy restaurant sitting alone drinking water and assuring someone would meet her only spoke of one thing. She may as well have a million lights shining on her with arrows and neon. "He's my fiancé."

The waiter poured her some more water and walked away.

She raised her hand, wanting to tell the waiter something, else, anything else that would make her appear less pathetic. It was no use. She lowered her hand. "I got a flower the other day." Yes it was from someone she didn't know, but she got one.

"What?"

She shut her eyes and took a breath. "Garrett." The pit in her stomach lightened a little. She grasped of the edge of the table and went to stand, preparing her body for the hug and kiss that would make her feel as light as a cloud.

"Stay seated, I don't have a lot of time." He put his hand on her shoulder, pushed her down and gave her a peck on the cheek.

She pressed her lips together and kept her hold on the table.

"I'm sorry." He sat down and took a piece of bread.

"You're sorry?" Maybe he was too nervous to kiss her.

"Yeah traffic was a bear, I should have chose somewhere closer to the airport, but I didn't want you to have to have that cab expense." He bit into the bread.

She couldn't afford a cab expense, something she meant to talk to him about. New York expenses were much different than Nebraska expenses.

He glanced at his watch, threw the bread down and looked at her. "Dana, we need to go over some things."

She took him in. He did seem tired. He usually had a smile in his eyes, or a bit of mischief, but right now his sandy brown hair that was normally combed back hung in his face and his eyes were dull. She always thought he looked like the boy next door with a bit of city flair. Maybe now was the time she could show him the type of wife she would be, and reached down into her bag and pulled out her file. "I got a lot done while you were gone."

"Dana."

"Look." She held out a few papers. "Both our places are too small for us to live together, so I found some reasonable apartments that are big enough."

He sat back, but didn't take the pages.

"I know you said you didn't want a big wedding, so I thought maybe we could just go to the court and maybe take a trip." She put her hand over the rest of the papers.

"I don't want to go to the courthouse to get married." He leaned over the table.

She swallowed. "Did you talk to your mother and tell her about us?" She tried to contain herself, but her heart sped up. Images of the wedding she wanted with family and a white dress and millions of flowers filled her head. "When can I meet her?" Maybe now they could get a ring, and do all the things a couple should really do.

He hit the table. "Dammit Dana!"

The shaking started instantly and she moved back, pressing her back into the chair. "Garrett?"

"You live in your own world." He pointed at her. "When I met you I loved that, but now." He shook his head.

"What?" She wrapped her arms around herself.

"I thought having you come to New York and having you live on your own would change you, but it made it worse."

She wasn't sure if she was hot or cold, but either way she broke out into a sweat. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. That's the problem." He held his hand up. "I just need to say this."

It seemed as if the entire restaurant became quiet to listen, her vision blurred and the pit in her stomach turned into a boulder, threatening to roll over her.

"You're too sweet, you're too…" He exhaled. "I thought this was what I wanted, but it's not. I can't marry you, I don't want to be with you anymore."

She didn't need a boulder his words flattened her. "I left everything to be with you."

"You left a two bit job in a third rate hospital. You were all alone anyway. I did you a favor by getting you to a real city."

She shut her eyes. No, she had no one after her father passed away, but she knew Nebraska, New York was cold and empty with no one. "Please don't do this to me, I'll do whatever you want. Tell me how to change."

"Dana." His voice softened.

She opened her eyes. "I'll do anything." She could do it, change to whatever he wanted, all he had to do is tell her. "I love you."

"Dana." He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. "Look at you. I never got you an engagement ring, I never let you move in with me, I never even talked about the wedding, and I just told you I didn't want you and you're still begging for me. You deserve better."

"I want you." She whispered.

"I need to go. I'm sorry, but trust me, its better this way." He stood up from the table. "If you need anything call, but I think you can learn to make it by yourself." He walked around the table and kissed the top of her head. "Take care of yourself. Find someone who will appreciate you. You should never have to change."

She stared straight ahead, refusing to watch Garrett leave, refusing to see anyone gawking at her, refusing to move. He left her alone.

Although she was alone, the restaurant seemed confining, as if it were shrinking and would overtake her.

She stood too fast, knocking her chair into the person behind her.

"Hey." The man turned.

She glanced at the couple at the table and caught sight of her waiter. "I'm sorry." She said to the man, and turned to the waiter. "I'm sorry." All she knew is she needed to get out of there, go anywhere, disappear.

Alone with no money, no friends, no family. No one. "I'm sorry." She said mostly to herself, wishing she could be someone else, anyone else.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi all, thank you for your continued support of this story. One of the highlights of my day is reading reviews, so please let me know how you like, or that you're reading.

Huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010 for her continued support.

Again, thank you all.

WTIE

Chapter 5:

Erik crouched down by the window outside the café. He watched Dana as she waited and then some man came. While Erik could see the indifference in the man's demeanor, Dana's emotions were written all over her, encompassing her like spilled black ink.

How was he going to do this? How was he going to approach her and get her to talk to him? He was off-putting at best and the only thing he had to go on was his gut telling him that she may be able to see beyond. "Get me a flower."

"What?" Fletcher stood behind him.

"I know you heard me. Get me a flower!" He shooed his stalker away and breathed when he heard Fletcher's footsteps on the gravel.

He froze when he saw the man touch her, but then just as abruptly the man rose and left Dana alone in the restaurant.

While he didn't know what to do if the man stayed with her, now his plan was handed to him, a gift he couldn't, wouldn't squander.

She stayed in the restaurant and Erik stood up straight. For the longest time she sat there staring straight ahead. Erik pounded his fist into his leg, he hated restaurants and the way people stared, even from his vantage point, he noted her pale complexion.

He pondered his next move, wondering if he should go inside and make a bigger spectacle than what already happened to her, or wait for her to leave.

Even with the winter chill he became over heated. He pulled his scarf down. Now was the moment, and he leaned over to catch his breath. Right as he looked up again, he saw her darting out of the back of the restaurant.

He followed her into a side street and stopped. There was no way he could run up to her, it had to be more casual, more refined. He lagged behind trying to think, when she sped up and went around another corner.

Erik rushed to keep up with her, but halted himself as she turned into an ally. His heart beat hard enough that he was sure anyone near him could hear it and he was about to walk up to her with his face half hidden by a scarf and sunglasses. "I should have worn a mask." He shook his head, he couldn't approach her in an ally. He would appear to be a deranged mass murderer or some crazy stalker. "Oh my God. It has to be tonight." He pulled the hood off his head, and his diatribe was only interrupted when Fletcher tapped him.

"Here." Fletcher hand him two daisies.

"What's this?" Erik took the flowers. They weren't wrapped, or accompanied by a bow. In fact, they had a bit of dirt on them and a root.

"Flowers." Fletcher motioned toward them.

Erik wanted to ask where he got them, or why he chose to actually pick some flowers rather then purchase them and then something dawned on him. He just allowed the woman he wanted to walk down a small ally by herself in New York City when she was obviously upset.

Not caring what he looked like, he dashed away, but the screech of tires and a thud stopped him again. "No." He tossed the flowers away and went into an all out run.

He sped around the corner with enough time to see a yellow cab drive disappear, and a form lying motionless off to one side, like yesterday's garbage. "Fletcher!"

Erik went to her side, skidding on his knees to reach her. "Please be alive." His body set on automatic, he checked her pulse and bent over her to ensure she was breathing.

"Thank you." His body went weak, but he knew he had to be something he wasn't…a doctor. "I'm better than an MD." He pushed himself up and assessed her. Blood dripped from her forehead and her ankle was twisted at an odd angle. He put his hand on her face. He never had the chance to see her this close up, and with the moonlight illuminating the ally, she was more beautiful than he ever dreamed. With no time to indulge, he found his penlight in his breast jacket pocket and checked her eyes. "They're blue."

He kept his hold on her and scanned his surroundings. No one was here, no one saw them. They were in the middle of the business district and had he had not been following her she could have laid there for hours with no help. He turned to Fletcher.

"Ambulance?" Fletcher took his cell phone out of his pocket and held it out to Erik.

Erik swiped his hand away and stared down at her. There was no way he would let her go off in an ambulance and be taken from him. He would be the one to personally tend to her. No one would treat her like he would. No one.

He glanced around again, his plan changing and he nodded when he spotted some wood stacked up by a building. "Get me one of those boards and go get the car."

Fletcher didn't move.

Erik grabbed his arm and pulled the man toward him. "You work for me, never forget that. Get me the damn board and get the car, she needs my help." He thrust Fletcher away from him. "Now!"

Fletcher scrambled to his feet and retrieved the board.

"Help me." Erik took hold of her and they managed to get her on the board and Fletcher left to get the car.

Erik adjusted her, he took off his jacket, cutting off some strips of fabric to secure her to the board, and covering her with the rest. He checked her vitals once more and picked up her purse, making sure nothing was left.

He swallowed. "Hello." Erik gazed into her face. "My name is Erik Chalon." While he waited, he went into the speech he tried to come up with for when the first met. "I have noticed you for quite some time. You may remember me from when you picked up some of my patients from my brownstone." He took a breath. "I was hoping that maybe you would allow me to treat you to a cup of coffee or perhaps some desert?"

He paused trying to think of what he would have said if she was conscious. He figured she would be looking at his face right now. "I know that maybe I'm not what you expect, but maybe you could become used to me in time." He started to shake. "Did I tell you that I'm a surgeon?" He thought he should end with that, women liked to be with surgeons, and he purposely didn't use the word doctor.

Before he was able to continue, the car came into the ally. Fletcher hurried out and both men got her inside. Erik got in with her. "I need to monitor her while you drive. Get home quickly." He took her hand and gave her a light squeeze. He never held a woman's hand before and he reveled in how small and soft Dana's was.

"Then what?" Fletcher asked.

Erik took her all in. She was here, she was alive, and she needed him. "Then I will heal her." Maybe once she knew he was the one who saved her, she would want him back.

She needed him.

***  
>"What are you doing?" Anton followed Erik and Fletcher into one of their exam rooms and assisted in getting Dana off the makeshift stretcher and onto an exam table.<p>

"I'm going to get an IV going and get her hydrated, then I'm going to get some x-rays." Erik checked her and went to the sink to wash his hands.

"Erik!" Anton came to his side. "What is this? How did you end up with her?"

"Old man." Erik fought the urge to lunge at him, instead opting to put on a pair of gloves. "I went to talk to her, she was hit by a taxi and the bastard drove away and left her for dead."

Fletcher nodded and went to Erik with a disposable gown.

Erik slipped into the gown. "You can go." He tilted his head at Fletcher.

Fletcher backed out of the room.

"She was hit by a car?" Anton followed Erik as he returned to Dana.

"Yes. What did you want me to do, leave her on the street?" He put on a mask, and then not wanting to scare her if she suddenly woke up, he put on a pair of surgical goggles. He would be pretty well hidden with all the lights and equipment.

"Did you ever think of calling an ambulance?" Anton pulled on a pair of gloves as well.

"You may normally get to choose the cases, but this one I'm choosing." Erik picked up a pair of scissors and cut up one of her pant legs.

"She doesn't need reconstructive surgery." Anton held his hand out.

"Thank god they didn't mar her." Erik glanced at his hand. "What?"

"I'm going to do the other side." Anton said.

"No." Erik shook his head. "No one touches her but me."

"Erik." Anton moved aside as Erik cut up her other pant leg.

"What is your plan?" Anton put his hand out before Erik could cut her shirt open.

"I already told you." Erik kept his focus on his patient. "Get out of my way, I have a lot to do."

"What happens when she wakes up?" Anton didn't move his hand.

Erik swatted his hand away, and in one fluid motion, cut her shirt open. He stopped. Everything stopped and he stared.

Her bra was beige lace, but now he could definitely make out that she had quite a figure. He didn't need to touch her to know her breasts were real, they were soft, perfect and he envied the bra that got to cradle her. Her skin was unblemished and light, untouched by the sun.

"Erik."

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he tried to speak and he coughed. "When she wakes up I'm going to explain what happened."

"And what if she thanks you and walks away?"

Erik began setting up her IV, grabbing the fluid he wanted and getting the instrumentation.

"What if she walks away?" Anton asked again.

He put his supplies on a tray and rolled it close to her. "Then she walks away." He swallowed.

"Are you sure?" Anton pointed at him. "If you're not sure, then let me treat her and call an ambulance."

Erik paused, trying to envision her seeing him and running away, or giving him a nervous smile and tiptoeing away. One of those scenarios was the most likely outcomes no matter what he did to help her or how much he cared. He pressed his lips together. "At least I know I did something."

The men looked at each other.

"All right." Anton backed up. "Treat her."

Erik nodded and went to remove the rest of her clothes. He needed to separate himself right now and remember right now she was his patent, nothing more.

He slid the garment down and she moaned.

"Hello?" He let go of her arm and leaned over. "Can you hear me?"

She didn't open her eyes, but nodded making another moan.

Erik reached up and adjusted the light, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him. "Can you say something?"

"Wh…" Her voice gave out.

"Try to speak. Tell me who you are." Erik grabbed her wrist not sure who he was trying to support. She could very well choose to leave the second she came around.

She shook her head and winced. "Where…where am I?" Her voice was strained as if she swallowed a mouthful of sand. "It hurts."

"You're in my surgery center. You were in an accident." He put his hand on her cheek. "Can you tell me who you are?"

Her head slumped to one side.

"Dana!" Erik yelled. Normally his patients were already put under and he fought the urge to grab her and shake her awake. "Wake up!"

"Erik." Anton stepped toward them.

Her eyelids fluttered and she licked her lips. "Who?"

"Dana." Erik said softer this time.

"Who?" She shook her head again. "Help me it hurts."

He glanced at Anton and put his hands on her shoulders. "Tell me who you are."

"This isn't unusual for the type of injury she sustained." Anton said. "She just has to clear her mind and recover."

She paused, blinked her eyes, but didn't open them and bit her lip.

"Tell me, it's all right." Erik prodded.

She opened her mouth as if she were priming herself to speak and closed it.

"Please tell me."

"I…" She wrinkled her nose. "I don't know."

"You don't know who you are?" Erik asked.

"Oh." She started to shake. "I don't."

Anton leaned over her. "Are you Dana?"

She winced, retracting as if she were slapped. "Who's Dana?"

"You're not Dana?" Erik tried as well. She didn't think she was Dana and rather than trying to think of how to heal her, his mind wandered in a million directions in the one second before she answered.

"No. That's not right." She opened her eyes and squinted.

"Can you tell me where you are?" He told her only minutes before, he wondered what part of her memory was in tact.

"You said I was at a surgery center." She groaned and tried to reach her hand up to her head.

He nodded, now for another test. "Can you tell me what state you live in?" Erik caught her hand before she hit her forehead.

"No. I don't know." Her voice hitched.

"And can you tell me who you are?" He asked once more, purposely not using her name. "Try hard."

She shut her eyes, squeezing them shut as if she were trying to squeeze her mind. Force the information out. She started to gasp for air, short breaths. "Help me."

"I'm here to help." Erik said. "Tell me who you are. Try to breathe."

She opened her eyes wide. "Oh god! I don't know!" She reached out, finding Erik's arm. "I don't know!" Her eyes rolled back in her head and body went limp.

Erik looked over at Anton.

"This is only temporary, she just had a jolt." Anton went to go help Erik with the IV.

"I'm the only one who treats her." Erik pointed to the door. "Until further notice, I'm the only one who talks to her."


	7. Chapter 7

Hi all, once more thank you for your support of this story. The reviews and feedback good is keeping me going through this rough patch I am having, so I truly appreciate any comments. For any of you that remember the good old days, I am off to a sales meeting tomorrow and that is particularly rough for me, so I will be even more eagerly looking forward to hearing from you. Of course a huge thanks to POTOPHAN1010 for her editing, support, etc.

Thank you all, and enjoy the next chapter

Chapter 6

Erik held up a crystal and leaned back and looked up at the ceiling in his office. He wanted this room to be grand, sterile, an extension of the operating room, and chose to decorate it in all white lacquer furniture with and clear and chrome accessories. Then in what he thought at the time would be unexpected, he graced the ceiling with a full-size crystal chandelier.

He tried to get an antique chandelier. In fact, he saw one with crystal tier drops, hundreds of them that caught his eye, but he couldn't purchase it once he found out the piece had a rich and full history.

He needed less baggage so he bought a modern chandelier. A swirl of rectangular crystals that didn't catch the light quite as he wanted, but any history it had was his. Then, last week, one of those cheap crystals dropped down onto the white marble floor and shattered.

Once more he held up the replacement, watching the light bend through the crystal, observing how the images became distorted. He pursed his lips needing to think about what to do with his patient in the next room.

After he treated her, he moved her to his recovery room, and in need of a break, told Olena to watch her and to come get him the moment she woke.

Olena would never go against his orders.

He exhaled wondering what to do if her memory returned, or more importantly, if it did not.

"I think she's stirring." Olena knocked on the doorjamb to Erik's office.

Erik sat up straight. "Did you talk to her?"

Olena answered by pursing her lips.

"Very good." He put the crystal in his pocket, opened his desk drawer, and reached in and picked up his mask, holding it up and analyzing the piece of cream-colored molded leather that was both a comfort and a confinement. If his plan were to work, he couldn't terrify her first thing. He turned his back to Olena and slipped the mask over his head, positioning it before he faced her.

Olena shook her head.

"This has to be less shocking than what is under the mask." He smoothed his hair down.

She shrugged her shoulders.

Not wanting to be delayed, he decided to forgo any further discussion on this non-negotiable matter and walked by her into the hallway.

Anton and Fletcher stood there.

"What are you doing, Erik?" Anton asked.

"What I must." When Erik went to move around the crowd, Anton stepped in front of him.

"You're crossing the line." Anton crossed his arms.

Fletcher and Olena stared at them.

He clenched his fist. "Eight years ago you crossed the line when you wheeled in my first patient and told me to fix her." He glanced over at Olena, it was her daughter who he reconstructed her cleft palate so she could be adopted to what she called a good home. Erik had still never quite forgiven Olena for giving up her offspring.

Olena turned away.

"You crossed the line again when I did a surgery for a woman, literally in a back ally, so she could marry well." He looked at Fletcher. That patient was his sister. "In those years, we would work for a meal and place to stay and do more illegal surgeries."

He paced down the hall and back up. "I have given to each one of you." He stopped and turned back to Anton. "My skill has provided for a very nice lifestyle."

Anton faced him.

"This time I am crossing the line for me and me alone, and if any of you go against me, this ride is over." He lifted his chin and looked at each one of them. "I would never hurt her and I would never force her to stay or do anything she doesn't want to do. This could all be a moot point, but just like I gave everyone their chance, you need to give me mine."

"Let me make something in case she's hungry." Olena wiped her face and walked away.

Fletcher nodded and went down the hall.

Erik waited for Anton. He would throw him out now if the man didn't comply.

Anton took a breath. "Do what you must. May I observe?"

No one would ever accuse Erik of doing anything heinous, and if that meant that he needed a witness, he would allow it. "Stay silent."

Anton allowed him to pass and he stopped short of entering the recovery room. The door was ajar, but he couldn't see her. Now was the moment of truth, now he would find out what his future held, and he pressed his lips together trying to halt his shaking.

He put his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the whirling in his mind, trying to stop his blood from speeding through his veins.

"Help!" She called.

At her cry, he forgot his own doubt, instinct overtook him and he hit the door open and rushed inside. "Are you all right?" He went to her side.

"Who are you?" She pulled the blanket up, covering everything but her eyes.

He rolled a stool over, and sat down. Even after the accident she looked like an angel. A terrified angel. The sheet shook from her trembling and her huge blue eyes seemed strained to take him all in, especially the mask. "I am Erik Chalon." He made sure to keep his voice soft and smooth, more comforting than a blanket fresh from the dryer.

"You said I was in an accident?" She reached her hand up, felt her face and exhaled.

He nodded. At least her short-term memory was in tact. He needed to tread along the subject of her long-term memory lightly, but was sure he would get the answer soon enough.

"Am I hurt bad?" For the first time since he came in, she glanced around the room. She looked right at Anton, narrowed her eyes and turned back to him.

"You have a sprained ankle and some bad cuts and bruises. There was no concussion, but you took a pretty bad blow to your head. I had to do some stitching but it will heal nicely." He never took five stitches more seriously. "You will need to take it easy for a while, allow us to wait on you hand and foot while you heal." He used an assumptive close and tried to smile without appearing too creepy.

"Who are you?" She leaned as if really taking him in.

Damn, did she not remember his name? "I'm Erik Chalon." He repeated.

"No, I know." She licked her lips. "Who are you?"

When he thought about what he was going to do with her, he sort of hoped she would fill in the blanks for him. He still wasn't sure if her memory was back. He thought about what to answer, but before he could, she asked another question.

She shut her eyes. "Actually, I was wondering if you knew who I was."

"Can't you remember?" He leaned forward, and not wanting to clench his fist, put his palm on his leg.

She shook her head.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

She opened her eyes. "I don't know." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked.

"You said you were Erik Chalon." This time her voice cracked. "Who am I?"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Anton leaning back on the wall. "Are you sure you don't know?" He would give her one last chance.

"Tell me my name, please." She sat up.

Her name. She couldn't be Dana, no. He had a clean slate, no history.

He swallowed.

He also had a block. He didn't come up with a name, he didn't think it would get this far. He tightened the grip on his leg and felt the crystal in his pocket.

"Don't you know my name?" She put her hand to her chest. "Have I been kidnapped? Abducted?"

"No!" He thought fast, she had to believe she knew him. "Your name is Cry…" He stopped himself. "Christine." He said the first name that entered his mind without calling her crystal. Christine sounded like music. "Yes. Christine Dupree." He held his breath. Dupree was the manufacturer of the chandelier. Maybe he needed to stop thinking about furniture.

"Christine." Her lower jaw shook as she took her name for a test drive. "Christine. Christine Dupree."

He waited, pressing his lips together to not offer anything unnecessary.

"Christine Dupree." She nodded.

He exhaled.

"Do I live here?"

Erik made sure not to flinch or glance in Anton's direction. "Yes, you live here with me." Now he did clench his fist, he should have given her his last name. No, it was better this way.

She stared at him. "Erik Chalon."

"Very good." He put his hand on her arm. "We'll take this slow, you'll be fine."

She narrowed her eyes and felt her face again. "Are you sure I haven't been abducted?"

"I'm positive."

"Why are you wearing a mask?" Rather than recoil she lowered her hand and placed it on his forearm.

His breath hitched at her touch, but he forced out an answer. This was something he thought about before. "I need to wear it, it never bothered you before." He nodded.

She mimicked his actions. "Are you okay?"

"I am now." He wanted to put his hand over hers, but fought the urge. At least he addressed the mask, what was underneath would come later. She wasn't running or crying. She touched him.

She glanced around the room, her gaze falling on him every so often as if to make sure he didn't vanish. "Who are they?" She faced the doorway.

He turned to find his entire brood watching. "That is Anton, Olena and Fletcher, they live and work with us."

"Hello." She bit her lip

The three of them lifted their hands in a wave.

She faced Erik once more. "What do I do now? The only thing I know is that I'm Christine Dupree and you're Erik Chalon." Her eyes filled.

"No tears." He gave into his urge and put his hand over hers. "You will concentrate on getting well, and we'll take it one step at a time. I want you to stay off that ankle. If you need anything I will be at your beck and call."

The corners of her mouth twitched, a small movement, but a hopeful one. "Beck and call."

"Absolutely." There was nothing he wanted more.

Then she turned toward the door again.

"Oh my God." She pulled her hand away from him and threw the sheets off herself.

"What's wrong?" Erik stood up. Anton, Olena and Fletcher were still there. Nothing had changed.

"There're so many people." She swung her legs off the bed.

"Christine, what are you doing?" He reached for her. "You're ankle."

"I can't stay here." She stepped off the bed and lifted her foot. "Oh."

"Your ankle." Erik tried to steady her.

"Stay away!" She swiped his hand away, put her hand on her forehead, and limped toward the exit. "I can't stay here."

"Christine!" He stayed right behind her.

She stopped in front of the other three. "I can't stay here."

They moved aside and she exited the recovery room.

Erik held his hand out stopping everyone else as he followed Christine. "Christine." Did he stop her or let her be? He waited to see what he should do.

"I need to leave, I need to get out." She put her hand to her forehead, looked up and down the hallway and limped toward the back door. "Thank you for taking care of me, but I need to go."

He stayed three paces behind her, almost exactly like when he would follow her. With each step she took toward the exit, he fought the urge to grab her, force her to stay, but he swore himself he was no monster.

She made her way to the door and turned the lock.

Erik shielded his eyes when the bright light of the afternoon sun flooded the space burning him. "Damn." He forced himself to blink and allowed his eyes adjust to the unwanted illumination.

She paused at the threshold and Erik stopped, holding his breath, priming his body to make the next move but not sure what that was.

She stepped outside and Erik leaned forward, resisting the need to grab her and ask her where she was going.

Fletcher, Anton and Olena came up beside him. "What is she going to do?" Anton asked.

Erik shook his head.

She put one foot out, as if she were dipping her toe in a bathtub full of scalding hot water, and turned her head up and down the back ally. She repeated the action, once, twice and a third time, and then hung her head down and lifted her sore leg up.

Her body began to shake and she sniffed.

Now Erik knew what to do. He tiptoed forward and put his hand on her back. "Christine, please don't cry. Let's get you off that ankle."

She didn't say a word, didn't protest to him touching her, didn't move.

"What can I do?" He asked.

"I don't know where I am." She admitted, her voice as broken and soft as if she were admitting a sin in a confessional, and she put her hands over her face "I have no idea. I need help."

"I'm sorry." He rubbed her back. "I want to help you."

She lowered her hands and turned to him, looking right up to his eyes. "You want to help me?"

He made sure to stay focused on her eyes and put his hand on her shoulder. "I want nothing more than to help you. Please trust me."

She nodded. "Erik Chalon."

"Right." Thank god she knew him. "I'm Erik Chalon."

"You treated me." She bit her lip.

"See, you're already making progress."

"I'm Christine Dupree." She pointed to herself, once more her mouth threatening to smile.

"Excellent." What was even more excellent was she was identifying with the name he gave her. "You are doing amazing."

"I have a pretty name." The smile she wanted to have finally emerged. It was a genuine, lighting her up more than the mid day sun.

He tried to match her smile. She was new, untouched, unbroken. The things they could share together. He had even more to give Christine Dupree than he did Dana Marlon. "Your name is beautiful and it fits you perfectly."

Her face lit up once more, this time from the perfect red hue staining her cheeks. She swallowed and turned to Olena, Fletcher and Anton. "Who are they?"

Erik fought to have any reaction to her question, but only a few minutes before he told her. She remembered him, but he figured her mind must be clouded. "That is Fletcher, Olena and Anton." Each of them lifted their hands in a limp wave as he said their name. "They live and work with us."

She turned back to him. "I live here with you."

He nodded. Christine Dupree was his. "Yes."

She faced the Anton, Olena and Fletcher once more. "Erik?" Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head.

"Yes, Christine." He leaned down trying to see what she was troubling her.

"Who are they?"

He caught Anton's gaze. The folds in Anton's forehead merged together to create a bizarre ripple, Erik could almost see his mentor's thought process. "That is Fletcher, Olena and Anton." Again the three of them lifted their hands, this time a little higher with a bit more flourish to let it sink in. "They live and work with us." He repeated.

"Oh." She looked at him. "They live and work with us."

"Yes."

"Erik, are we married?" She took hold of his forearm.

He braced her, or braced himself and his voice hitched as he said the next words. "Not yet."

He closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Hi all, I hope you are enjoying the story. I am back from my meeting and ready to keep going. Some of my favorite scenes are coming up and I love this one because it's the first time we meet Christine from her perspective. Please let me know how you like this and a huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010

Chapter 7

Christine squinted at the television. She had now watched this movie twice but had absolutely no idea who was who or what was going on. She lifted the remote and shut the set off. In the four days since she woke up she tried watching television programs and movies, but found the whole thing ridiculous. Who could keep track of it all?

She fell back on the pillows and lifted her book about New York City. It was a large, heavy book, she assumed used mostly for coffee tables, she wondered if she were one of the first people to actually read it. It wasn't that she didn't know what or where New York City was, it was just she had absolutely no recollection of ever being here. She had no recollection of being anywhere. She felt like she dropped out of the sky with nothing except one masked man to help her.

Actually, she had one thing in abundance.

Questions.

Questions upon questions built up in her head creating a skyscraper that would outshine any in New York City. What she didn't have was answers. No matter how many questions she asked, she had no answers.

"Now, let's take a look at that ankle." Erik's voice boomed through the doorway as he came into the bedroom carrying a tray and a garment bag.

She put her book aside and sat up. "I thought you had a surgery." She watched him walk across the room. Her room was large, almost too large with massive furniture. Everything in the room was grand and perfect, and then she was there, the only mess in the pristine space.

However, when Erik entered, he added what the room was missing, warmth, grace, and elegance. He stood tall among the all the pieces in the room, a slender man whose movements flowed as if he planned every one. The furniture may be stark and straight, but he added the curves.

"I finished early. I couldn't wait to treat my favorite patient." He pulled the chair up next to her and put his items down on the bed. "I was going to see if you finished the movie." He glanced over at the screen. "No movie?"

"Without you there, I couldn't get into it." Truth was he kept explaining the plot and characters in order for her to follow along.

"You seemed like you wanted to see it." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe we can watch it later."

"Then lets get a look at your ankle." He held up the bag. "But first something to look forward to."

"Erik." She shook her head. "You've already given me so much." She wanted for nothing, except her memory, the one thing the man who said he was her fiancé couldn't give her.

"Maybe I haven't given you nearly enough." He unzipped the garment bag.

"I made the list of questions." She held up her paper.

He raised one finger telling her to wait.

She covered her mouth muffling her gasp as he revealed to her a floor length cream gown. The bodice was beaded and would fit tight to her waist and the skirt was a flowing airy material. A princess would wear such a dress, not her.

He held the dress up. "The other items that match are on their way over, but I said I had to have this before the store closed so you could see it."

"Where will I wear that?" She swallowed.

"Do you like it?" He turned the garment toward her.

"I love it, but where will I wear it?" She pressed her hand to her chest. She had a closet full of gowns, formal ones like the one Erik held as well as shorter cocktail dresses, and everything in between. Only a small portion of her room-size walk in closet consisted of what she would call regular clothes, but even those seemed fancy. "What kind of life do we have?"

He tilted his head, laid the dress across the foot of the bed, and sat down, moving his chair up closer. "We have an amazing life, I am honored to be the one discovering it with you."

"Where will I wear the dress?"

He reached forward and took her hand. "Everyday with you is special, therefore everyday there will be an opportunity to wear anything you like."

"Erik." She swallowed. Everyday she tried to ask questions but was met with answers like those. Poetic responses from a man who showered her with attention making her forget what she forgot in the first place.

"Now let me check your ankle." He slid the chair down.

"I do have some questions." She put her paper on her lap.

"All right." He kept his focus on her bruised appendage as he unwrapped her.

"Do I do anything? Do I have a job?"

"You are still black and blue." He raised her ankle and ran his fingertips across her.

She arched her back at the shivers he created.

"Did I hurt you?" He turned to her.

"No." She shook her head not wanting to tell him quiet the opposite. She needed to keep her focus. "Do I have a job?"

He nodded and moved her ankle back and forth.

"What is it?" She clutched the sheet as a searing pain went from her ankle up her calf and down to her toes. "Erik!"

"I'm sorry." He put his palm over her ankle. "I wish I could take the pain from you."

She inhaled as the pain dissipated. "What is my job, Erik?"

He rubbed her ankle. "Your job is to make sure that you're happy and I'm happy and that we have a reason to make sure you wear those dresses everyday. You don't want to duplicate your wardrobe. I am told women hate that."

"With my memory I won't have to worry if I wore the same dress twice." She watched him rewrap her ankle. So far all she knew about herself since she woke up is that she had a clothes fetish and she went out with Erik, apparently a lot. "I must be the most selfish person alive." No wonder she chose to forget herself and she put her hand to her forehead.

"What?" Erik faced her. "What did you say?"

"You can't tell me anything about myself that doesn't involve some material item. It sounds like all I do is sit around and wait for you to take me places while I dream of where we can go next." She shut her eyes. "I'm horrible."

"Christine!" He placed her leg on the bed and slid the chair up. "Look at me."

She forced her eyes open.

"You are the furthest thing from selfish." Once more he took her hand. "You looked at me and saw beyond." He put her hand up to the lower half of his cheek below the mask. "No one who is selfish and superficial can do that."

"But now…" She didn't know what to think about now. Would she have been that person now?

"Now, is now." He squeezed her hand. "You woke and saw my mask, and still don't flinch at my touch."

"But you were always here, like this." The tell tale pressure of tears behind her eyes began.

"I think your heart knows, everyone else shies away from me, but even since you woke up, you still accept me." He smiled.

She studied his mouth. Except for his eyes this was his only feature she could clearly make out, but his mouth alone told her volumes about him. His mouth was almost perfect except for one side of upper lip. The left side was thick, pulled back and not matching it's right side counterpart. She figured this was merely a sneak preview to what lay behind his mask.

Her heart lurched, she wondered how she reacted to him before and knew that was why he wore the mask now. Could she handle it again or would she destroy their lives? She purposely left those questions off her list. Right now this was all she knew, all she had. "There are things I need to know."

Erik kissed the back of her hand. "Christine, I'm not trying not to tell you, I'm trying to let you discover yourself. I think if you tax yourself you it will ultimately lead to failure and frustration. I think your instinct will guide you back to your true self and back to us. " He kissed her hand a second time.

The shivers overtook her again at his kisses. Maybe he was right, maybe she needed to let it happen naturally, she was exhausted from trying to make her mind work. She kept pushing, but the object she pushed against wouldn't budge, it was as if she were running into a concrete slab.

"Let it happen, Christine."

She glanced down at the paper of questions. How long had they been together? Where did they meet? Where did she grow up? What was her life? She folded the paper and slipped it into her book.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi everyone!

Sorry for the long hiatus, but many things have happened. First we had to do something for one of our original stories, and I am keeping my fingers, toes, legs and eyelashes crossed that it comes true. Second, my hubbie had to have surgery – but he is fine now, and third and much more happy is that POTOPHAN1010 got married! Join me in wishing her a congratulations, her husband unit it a total sweetheart.

Anyway, please read and let me know how you like it, the reviews keep me going!

Thanks

WTIE

"Who's that?" Christine paused the DVD.

"That's the officer who is looking for the criminal." Erik wrinkled his nose, this was the third time she stopped the movie to ask something similar.

"No, I know that, he's wearing the uniform. The other one." She pointed.

"That's the detective." He told her.

"Oh." She inhaled and took her time exhaling, puffing her cheeks out. "No wonder I didn't do anything in my former life."

"What do you mean?" He put the movie on pause and faced her.

"I can't remember who anyone is but you and that's probably half the reason why you insist on wearing the mask or I would lose you too." She shook her head.

He lifted his hand to tell her there was a damn good reason he wore the mask and it wasn't so she knew him, but stopped himself as he digested her words.

She only knew him, and he wore a mask. She knew the officer in the movie because he was wearing a uniform. She only recently began recognizing Anton, Olena and Fletcher, and she never looked at their faces. She hated television and would only watch movies with him because she couldn't follow the characters.

"Let's get on with the movie, I think I got it now." She reached over for the bowl of popcorn.

"Hold on." He shut his eyes trying to piece it together. "Christine look at me."

"What's wrong?" She threw her hand of popcorn back in the bowl and grabbed his arm. "Erik?"

"Nothing, relax." He needed to remember how jittery she was, not that he blamed her. "Just look at me for a second." He put his hand on her chin reveling in how she stared at him without a flinch, without any revulsion.

"Erik?"

"I just want to see something." He held up the remote and started the movie again, fast forwarding to a different scene with the detective, purposely choosing one where he was in a different outfit. "Look at the screen now."

She turned to the television.

"What character is that?" He tried to keep his voice in check.

She blinked, bit her lip and squinted as if trying to force the answer out of her head.

"Do you know who it is?" He whispered.

She shut her eyes. "Hold on."

He tensed. "Try to remember."

One tear slid down her cheek, followed by a second. "I'm so stupid." She covered her face with her hands.

"Christine!" He jumped off his chair and joined her on the couch. "You are not stupid!"

She shook her head.

"Christine." He put his hand on her back.

She turned and without hesitating or even a warning, hid her face in his chest. Her body shook against his as she cried.

He held his breath and froze. Never, ever did anyone willingly initiate contact with him, or look to him for comfort. Yet here his Christine was, pressing herself to him, wanting him to make it better. He shut his eyes, lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. "Oh my God."

"I'm so sorry." She returned the gesture and put her arms around his waist.

He shook his head. What on Earth could make her sorry? He should be apologizing to her for so many things. "What?"

"Was I like this before?" She balled his shirt in her fists.

He may not know much about her past, and now purposely didn't delve into her past for fear he may give something away, but this answer he knew. "No." She recognized Anton when she came to get their patients, nodded at him even. "No you weren't."

"I ruined our lives." She balled his shirt in her fists.

"How can you say that?" He wanted to push her back and look into her face, but instead held her tighter.

"I can't even watch a movie." She sniffed. "There's something really wrong with me. I'm defective."

At her words he found his strength, grabbed her shoulders and moved her back to see her. "Christine."

She pressed her lips together.

"I never want to hear you talk like that about yourself again." He set his jaw, pushing the words back about who was truly defective in this relationship. "The night you were hit by that car you could have died and you have overcome everything."

She shook her head.

"Yes. God only knows what could have happened. We should be thankful all we lost that night was your memory." Damn him, he was thankful she lost her memory.

"Erik." She swallowed. "Something is wrong with me. Really wrong."

"I will figure out what's wrong, I promise." He loosened his grip while he thought about what she told him. Part of being a good practitioner was hearing the clues that his patient gave him. He never practiced this side of medicine, never interacted. Anton acted as his ears. Christine told him everyday something wasn't right and he was too clouded to take notice.

"I'm a burden." She sank back into him. "We can't even do the things we used to do, you can't introduce me to anyone, I wont know who they are three seconds after I meet them. I can't even go outside, or I'd get lost like a child. That's why you haven't taken me anywhere. I'm so sorry, Erik." She sank into him.

"No it's me who's sorry. I didn't realize." He wasn't sure what was going on besides her memory loss, but he would figure it out.

She glanced up at him.

"I told you, we will have a wonderful life." He needed to assure her.

"I want to know what's wrong with me." Her gaze traveled over his mask as if she needed to absorb him.

"I will figure it out." He pressed her face back into his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

Hi all, here is the next installment. Please let me know how you like it, your feedback means a lot to me and work has been very stressful.

Huge thanks to POTOPHAN1010 for her excellent skills as always.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 10

Christine leaned back in her chair. She didn't want to try to watch a movie and was tired of reading. With Erik in surgery the house was quiet, dead. She bit her lip and glanced at the clock. He told her he could be working for hours and kissed both her hands twice before leaving her, looking back three times before he entered his surgical suite. Over four hours when he left she thought he was being a bit melodramatic, now she wished he would come back and kiss her hands again.

Maybe eventually her fiancé would graduate to her lips. She thought that was what she wanted, she wasn't sure. Erik was sort of thrust at her. She couldn't picture a world without him and she prayed her feelings were new ones, not only residual from before her accident.

She looked over at the television and shook her head. She was tired of watching shows about animals, and then glanced over at the stereo. She would rather listen to music with Erik. She reached for her book again. At least in her mind she could keep track of the characters.

With a sigh and another peek at the clock she opened to her page, only staring at it. Olena was in the kitchen cooking, and Christine could feel her distain every time she tried to help. Fletcher was running some sort of errand, and only stared at her as if she was a confusing statue and Anton was assisting Erik. All she did was sit around waiting for Erik.

He told her she only needed to worry about was creating a great life for them, but then he handed her a stack of books. She couldn't sit around all the time waiting for him to entertain her, if she was his partner as he claimed she wanted to do something for him other than sit in a chair.

She tossed her the book on the table and sat up, glancing toward the kitchen. No way would she disturb Olena, and Fletcher was out.

"Erik said before he could go for something sweet." She curled her upper lip over her teeth. More than once Fletcher brought them fancy shaped cookies from the bakery and even if Erik didn't finish off his dinner, he always inhaled the treat. "The bakery is just down the alley."

Since her ankle healed, she had been in the alley several times. Always in the middle of the night, always holding on to Erik's arm, always with him guiding her. He pointed out the back of the bakery on more than one occasion.

She stood up, smoothed her sweater down and tiptoed toward the back door. Her heart sped up and her stomach tightened. She hadn't been out alone since the accident, hadn't seen another person except for the four people she lived with, but if she were to give her and Erik this life, she needed to be able to walk outside and get a cookie for her fiancé. "I can do this."

As she reached the door, she peeked behind her, maybe wishing Erik would come out and see her there and offer to take her out. "No." She inhaled. "I can do this." She grabbed the handbag she never used yet, opened the door and walked outside.

In the alley the backs of buildings faced each other, different colors of brick or cement making a crazy vertical quilt that with Erik seemed to blanket her. As she looked up into the grey sky with the red and grey buildings looming all around, her breath hitched. Without Erik her blanket seemed more as a weird roadmap she couldn't read. "I can do this." She repeated and looked up and down the narrow path.

Half the time when Erik and her strolled through here, he was talking, telling her a story, and as she held onto him she watched him, she never really paid attention which direction they went.

She turned right, the alley ended in more buildings. Now she turned left, that way ended the same.

This bakery was somewhere she had to have been a million times with Erik before she forgot, she had to have some sort of internal knowledge of where it was. She had to, and putting her nail in her mouth, she turned right and began walking.

The sun was setting, and already behind the buildings, but the sky wasn't calming pitch black yet, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Fall in New York could be chilly, and tonight definitely had that potential, especially with the breeze blowing all around her. No wonder Erik was so fastidious about her wearing a coat. She had enough of them. Short jackets for more casual days, and long coats that would brush the ground, but keep her toasty warm.

She made it to the end of the alley and once more assessed her options. This time turned left. She was met with a maze of pathways where buildings came together. Everything looked the same. "It has to be here." She continued, turning left again and again, figuring if she couldn't find the bakery, eventually she would make a square back to the brownstone.

The sky darkened, the air became frigid and her only companion in the grid that now seemed more like the bars in a jail cell was the sound of her own teeth chattering. She kept going, now not remembering if she made a mistake and turned right instead of left once. Not one other person was in the maze of the alleyways, no welcoming odor wafts of cookies and cakes, nothing.

Her goal changed. Now she decided she should go back, and rushed to the next corner and turned left.

"Are you alright?" A man asked.

She skidded herself to a stop and put her hand on her chest. This definitely wasn't anyone she knew. She was sure of it.

He throat dried out, making it feel as if she was breathing sand, and she swallowed. She glanced at this man's hands. Not Fletcher. Fletcher had a big hand, massive, in fact, perfect for opening a jar, not ideal for the types of intricate surgeries Erik performed.

This man was definitely not Anton, with his hunched over frame and gray hair. Now anytime Anton saw her, he told her he was Anton and then called for Erik as if she were a time bomb and if she were going to detonate Erik would have to clean up her mess. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sherman." The man laughed and pointed at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm lost." She stepped back, tripping over a crack in the asphalt and turning, her hand slamming into a building to catch herself.

"Are you okay?"

At the touch of something on her shoulder, she spun around, and was faced with a man. "Who are you?" She shut her eyes and tried to be logical, she was just speaking to someone named Sherman, but never remembered seeing this man. Maybe it wasn't the same man.

Every part of her froze and she shut her eyes.

"Miss, are you all right."

She opened her eyes and was met again with someone she didn't know. "Who are you?"

"I just told you." He leaned forward. "I think maybe we should call someone."

"I'll just go home." She glanced around and wrapped her arms around herself. All the buildings looked the same, everything looked the same, but different. "I just need to find it."  
>"Why don't you tell me who you are?" The man reached forward.<p>

"No!" She jumped back, the man would take her like her memory was taken. She covered her eyes. "Help."  
>The man put his hand on her shoulder. He was going to steal her for sure. Her heart pounded hard enough to knock the wind out of her, she couldn't breathe, she would pass out, wake up and have no one, no Erik. "Erik!"<p>

"Christine!"

That voice. She knew that voice, it was the best sound, smooth and silky and strong. Did she only think she heard it or did he find her in time? "Erik!" Her throat seemed to tear at the force of her scream.

"Christine!" The voice came closer.

"Erik." This time when she said his name her voice was muffled by the true article himself. The arms around her were the right arms, the hands on her where they belonged. "This is right." Her body went weak and she breathed in the scent of Erik's soap, crisp and clean with an undertone of something deep and earthy.

"Oh my God." He cupped her head in his palm.

"What happened?" She heard Anton ask.

"She came around the corner and seemed confused." The man offered. "I tried to help her."

"Are you all right?" Erik bent down and spoke in her ear.

She arched her back at the shivers he created down her spine and she licked her lips. "I wanted to get you something and got turned around."

"You wanted to get me something?" He leaned back.

She looked up into his masked face and nodded as she lifted her hand and put it to his chin.

"What is it?"

"Did I wander away the day I was in the accident?"

"You were out, I was waiting for you." His voice became low. "I waited too long."

"How did you find me?" She asked, allowing her fingertips to trace his jawline, there were a few irregularities there, some scars that disappeared up behind his mask, but somehow they didn't bother her, they made Erik, Erik.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. "You went out, I wanted to be with you and followed. I didn't want you to be upset I was there and got to you too late." He turned away.

"Is that why you came running now?" She bit her lip.

"When I came from surgery to see you and you weren't there…" He shook his head.

"You found me."

They looked at each other.

She held her breath.

He moved his face toward her.

Maybe he would kiss something other than her hand. She started to shake.

"What's the matter with her?" The man asked.

Christine looked down, she didn't deserve to kiss Erik. Anyone from miles away could tell she there was something wrong with her.

"There's nothing wrong with her, she got lost." Erik pulled her into him.

She pressed her forehead on his chest, the blue of Erik's scrubs turning to black as she moved in closer.

"She looked more than lost." The man countered. "Are you her doctor?"

"This looks like it's none of your business." Erik tightened his grip on her. "And you will need a doctor if you don't get away from us."

She didn't move, couldn't move, but the heat in her cheeks rose and it wasn't from the potential of Erik's kiss. He didn't say he was her fiancé. She didn't even have a ring.

"Erik." Anton piped in. "Why don't we get Christine home? We have some work we need to finish anyway."

"You're right." Erik wrapped his arm around her. "Come on Christine, let's go home."

She stared at the ground while Erik led her away. She was just another bit of Erik's never ending work.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hello, Christine, it's Anton." He came into the library holding books.

Christine straightened up in her chair and her stomach bottomed out. Anton never spoke to her unless he had to. "What is it?"

"Would you mind if I conducted a little test?" He stepped further into the room.

"What kind of test?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "Where's Erik?"

"He's finishing up a couple of things." He went and sat across the coffee table from her. "This isn't anything to be scared of. I just did some research and want to see if I'm correct."

She bit her lip.

"Remember, I am a doctor."

She watched while Anton laid out a few items including a pad and a pen as well as some large cards. "Erik is my doctor."

He didn't respond, only wrote something down on the pad.

She watched him and swallowed. Of everyone in the house, he treated her the most distant. She shook her head. No, that wasn't true. Olena didn't speak to her either. The only person other than Erik who liked her at all was Fletcher.

"Now here's what we're going to do." Anton looked at her.

"Do you hate me?" She cut him off.

He furrowed his brow and sat back. "Hate you?"

"Yes, hate, dislike, not care for." She clasped her hands together. "Do I annoy you or disturb you?" She took a breath.

He opened his mouth.

"Did I do something to you before?" Her nails dug into the back of her hands. "Did I insult you, was I mean or nasty to you?"

"Christine." Anton shuffled his papers.

"If its any consolation prize, whatever I did, I don't remember, so just tell me, maybe it will help me remember something, anything." Her nails pierced the skin on the top of her hands. "Was I a terrible person? No one will tell me."

They stared at each other and the room became silent. She waited, wishing Erik would appear, but wanting to hear what Anton would tell her.

"You were not a terrible person." He pushed his materials aside and leaned forward. "And you are not a terrible person now."

She didn't move.

"You never did anything to me." He looked down at the table. "I apologize if I hurt your feelings, I suppose even though I am a doctor I didn't know how to act around you."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He turned up to her and gave her a smile. "I've been watching you since you woke up and observing your difficulties. Today when I came to you, I really only wanted to see if I could get to a diagnosis."

"You wanted to help me?"

"Yes. I did some reading and I think I know what is going on."

"Why didn't Erik do this?" If anyone was focused on her wellbeing, it was her fiancé.

"He doesn't want to admit anything is wrong. He sees you as perfect."

She let go of her own hands and pressed her palm to her chest. "Okay, you can test me."

"It's really quite simple. I just want you to tell me who you see in the picture." He grabbed the stack of oversized cards he brought with him. "Nothing more nothing less."

This almost sounded like a game. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"Okay." She bit her lip and waited.

Anton lifted the first card. It was a woman. She studied the hair and the dress. "That's Olena."

"Very good." He made a note and lifted another card.

This was a picture of a man with grey hair in a doctor's coat. "That's you." She giggled.

He turned it toward himself. "Not the best picture."

They repeated the cards a few more times. One with a picture of Fletcher, one a picture of George Washington, one a picture of a famous female talk show host. She was proud she was getting them all right.

"Okay try this." He lifted another one.

She stared at the picture. It was a woman, but only the face. "Where's her hair?"

"I took it off with the computer. Try to see if you know who it is." He prodded.

She squinted. No hair, no clothes, nothing. Only a face, a face she didn't know. She began to shake. "I don't know that person."

"That's fine." He put the card down.

"Am I supposed to know that person?" She grabbed her own hands again.

"Try one more." He showed her another face. A man this time.

The tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them way, but with her sight cloudy or not, it didn't change the outcome, she had no idea who that person was. "Who is it?"

He rifled through the cards and held another picture next to the one she didn't know. This was the picture of Fletcher from before. She compared the pictures. "Fletcher?"

He did the same with the first picture she missed.

"Olena." Now with the hair and clothing and replaced she recognized the woman. "What's wrong with me?" Her voice cracked, more like shattered to the ground.

"What's going on in here?" Erik rushed into the room. "Why is Christine crying?"

At the sight of Erik, she raised her hands to him. She knew Erik, his voice, his body, his mask.

Anton stood, blocking his path. "I did some diagnosing of my own."

"Get away from me." Erik moved around him, slid next to her on the couch and took her hands. "Oh my God!" He held her hands in front of him. "Christine, what happened?"

"I got nervous." She tensed as Erik glanced between her hands. "It's not bad." She didn't realize what she had done to herself.

"I want to put something on this, you broke the skin." He dipped his head down and kissed each one of her hands and then turned to Anton. "I told you once I was her doctor and I will treat her. What did you do to make her so upset she would resort to this?" He thrust her hands in Anton's direction.

She never meant to start anything. "Erik, he doesn't hate me."  
>"Why would he hate you?" He pointed at Anton. "What are you doing?"<p>

"I'm trying to help her." Anton shook his head. "She has prosopamnesia."

She gasped. "Is that cancer?"

Erik stood up. "What is wrong with you? Get out of here and stop diagnosing my patient!" He spun back to her. "Of course it's not cancer. You don't have cancer." He kneeled down and cupped her face in his palms. "There is nothing wrong with you."

She put her hand over his. Anton was right, he didn't want to see what was wrong with her. "Erik, I can't recognize faces."

"That's what the condition is." Anton explained. "She sees the face but it doesn't get stored into her memory."

"She may have had trouble at the beginning, but she is much better now. She knows everyone here." He kept his eyes on her and smoothed her hair down.

"She's relying on other key features to recognize those around her. Look."

Erik looked behind him as Anton explained the test he gave her.

"She doesn't recognize faces. Can't follow the characters in movies or television. Got scared when she came upon that man in the alley. It all fits, Erik." Anton lowered the cards. "Now that we know what is wrong we can help her."

"There's nothing wrong with her." Erik stood up straight and gave her his hand. "So she can't recognize faces. She recognizes who she needs to."

She took his hand and stood, but didn't let him lead her away. "Erik."

He faced her. "There's nothing wrong with you."

She wanted to argue, needed to argue, but his eyes, greenish gold and wide with conviction told her that right now she wouldn't change his mind. She sighed. She would have to find help on her own and she glanced at Anton out of the corner of her eye.

"You listen to me, there's nothing wrong with you." He leaned down.

She tilted her face to his. Would she know her own fiancé if he took off his mask? "Why don't we go take a walk?"

He smiled. "That would be wonderful." He kissed the back of her hand.

She let him lead her out. Yes, she would have to try to find the help and answers on her own.


	12. Chapter 12

Hi all, sorry for the long wait. Huge thank you to POTOPHAN1010 and we got some encouraging news this week that I hope I can share with you soon. Please review and let me know how you enjoy.

WTIE

Chapter 12

"Christine." Erik glanced in the library and frowned. She wasn't there. "Christine!" She hadn't been talking much lately and he wanted to spend some time with her.

"Stop yelling through the house." Olena came by swatting a dishcloth at him.

He spun on his heel and faced Olena. "She didn't leave the house again, did she?"

Olena stared at him.

"Oh my God, you let her out!" His heart seized and he dashed toward the door. Three days ago when she wandered off and he came out of surgery to find her missing every horrible thought went through his mind. She was innocent, vulnerable. Anyone could take her. He swallowed.

"Erik!" This time Olena yelled. "Stop!"

He reached for the doorknob and turned, waiting for some vital information on the location of this love.

Olena crossed her arms, but didn't speak.

"Did she leave this house our not?" He clenched his fists.

She pursed her lips.

"Olena." He would warn her once.

"She's in the house." She turned on her heel and stomped away.

"I told her to stay in the library." He called after her and began his search.

After checking the entire bottom floor, including listening at a bathroom, he made his way upstairs and into the master bedroom. Heat rose in his face as he looked inside and didn't find her there and for the first time since Christine entered his life, he felt the urge to lift his mask and claw his face, but then he heard a noise, more like a grunt, coming from the closet. "Christine?"

"Shoot!" No sooner was the word out of her mouth than there was the tell tale crash of objects falling.

"Christine!" He rushed to the closet door and yanked it open, stifling a smile at what happened.

She was standing there with boxes and clothes all around her. Her hair was askew and her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing?" He needed to ask.

"Looking for something." She bent down and picked up one of the pieces of clothing and hung it on a hanger.

He waited for a more detailed answer, but instead of her offering anything more she chose another piece of clothing and took her time hanging that up.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as she hung up the last of her items. "Christine."

"I'm busy." She plopped herself down right in the center of the closet and opened one of the boxes. She held up a pair of shoes, glanced at the bottoms, tossed them back into the box, shook her head and went to a second box.

He stepped toward her. "Can I help you?"

"No, I can do this." She turned her back to him.

"Christine." He held his hand out and then put it back down, choosing instead to kneel behind her.

"Can I help you, Erik?" She didn't turn to look at him, instead repeating the action of looking at a pair of shoes.

His chest tightened. Not once since she woke up had she taken such a brash tone with him. She was sweet, soft spoken and timid, traits he adored. "Yes."

"What is it?" She huffed, pushed the boxes away and crossed her arms.

"Can you tell me what has you upset?"

She didn't say a word, but her shoulders lowered in defeat.

"Please." He prodded.

Again she didn't answer, but he waited.

"I can't find anything." She whispered.

"What?" He glanced around the closet, before she started tearing it apart it was perfectly organized. "Is there something you want?" If that were the case he would go get it right away.

Finally she turned to him. "Something used, something mine, something ours."

"Everything in here is yours." He wiped his arm around the space.

"Everything in here is brand new." She countered.

He nodded.

"Erik." She pounded her fist into the floor. "Where are our pictures? Where are my clothes from before the accident? There's nothing old in here, I have no history." She leaned over and picked up a pair of shoes. "These are new, everything has tags." She threw the shoes aside.

"Christine." He bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from talking, but refrained from drawing blood.

"Where are your clothes? You say we're engaged but I don't even have a ring!" She turned her back to him once more. "I don't have anything, not anything that's mine."

For someone who worked with the most miniscule details, he left gaping holes all around him. Now he would have to do some intricate stitching back together.

"Christine." He stiffened, wanting to ram his fist through something, but inhaled and instead put his hand on her shoulder thankful she didn't flinch at his touch. "We don't have pictures because I am not a huge fan of having my picture taken." He figured he would deal with the easiest one first and it would buy him time.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have realized."

"It's all right." He moved his hand down her shoulder to her forearm and at last he hand. "Don't think about it again."

"Did I have any pictures?"

He shook his head. "You never moved any." At least he didn't lie. Not technically. "I bought you everything new after the accident." Another lie abated if she accepted his answer.

"Why would you do that? Wouldn't my items help me remember?"

He stared at her, actually beyond her, he couldn't really look right at her. The heat beneath his mask increased. "I didn't even think, I wanted to make you happy." He looked down. "I just wanted to make you happy. I promised myself that if I could be with you I would treat you like a queen."

"Oh, Erik." She scooted closer and interlaced their fingers together.

He looked down at their hands and felt as if he could breathe again. "I moved my items out of this room when you didn't know who you were because I didn't want you to feel pressured."

She stared at him and put their hands to her chest. "You did that for me?"

He nodded. "As for your ring…"

"I shouldn't have asked." She cut him off. "You gave me so much already."

"I have a ring for you, I just want you to have it when the time is right." He brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Now can I help you put your items away?"

"Please." She gave him a smile.

Keeping hold of her hand he stood and helped her up, he needed to do something for her after all she gifted him with, including not demanding any more of an explanation. "How about tonight we make use of one of your dresses?" If he wanted her he needed to try to have some sort of semblance of a normal life and that included leaving the brownstone.

"I'm scared."

He instantly assumed she meant she was scared to be seen with him and was about to leave when she stepped closed her put her head to his chest.

"I'm scared to leave," she whispered.

"What?" He put his hand on the back of her head. "What do you mean?"

"What if I get lost again?"

He shut his eyes. "I will never lose you again. I promise."

She tilted her face up to him.

He studied her, letting his eyes travel across her face taking in each individual feature.

"What is it?" She asked.

"You are very beautiful." He swallowed. "Too beautiful to stay inside. We will go out tonight."

"All right, Erik." She licked her lips and gave him a laugh.

"Now what is it?" It was his turn to ask.

"I feel very normal."

"Start getting ready. Let's break in some of those shoes." He reluctantly let go of her. "I'll make the plans." He may be able to buy her clothes and wipe away her lost memories, but he couldn't lock her away. They had to try to be normal.


	13. Chapter 13

Hi all sorry for the very long delay. We have been working very hard getting our story to the publisher and now are keeping our fingers crossed that we get accepted.

We are asked a lot about our old stories. We will be giving away a copy of Lessons In Love for every 5 likes we get on our Leigh Erikson page on facebook. The first round of prizes is going out this week. The link is https:/ www (dot) facebook (dot) com / pages / Leigh-Erikson/ 217925994928205 remove the spaces and replace the (dot)

Big thanks to POTOPHAN1010 for editing while she was sick!

Here is the next chapter

Christine slipped her brand new golden strappy shoes on and went to the full- length mirror at the far end of the closet, put her hand on her chest and nodded. This was the look she was going for, tight bodice, flowing skirt with a slit up the side and plenty of her cleavage showing. He bought the dress, so he must want to see her in it.

She smoothed her dress down and grabbed a handbag. Since the day he came running to find her in the maze of alleyways behind their house she knew where she belonged. When Erik almost kissed her she knew she wanted him to. However since then he only stared at her, gave her light, comforting touches that landed in the pit of her stomach, but apparently did nothing for him.

She had to know tonight if she had a fiancé or a babysitter.

She pursed her lips. She most definitely didn't want a babysitter.

She turned and looked around her room. Erik had moved his clothes out of here, and himself out of here.

The knock on door made her jump. She swallowed and took a breath. "Erik?"

"Are you ready?" He called through the door.

Her heart seized as well as her body.

"Christine?" He knocked again.

She covered her mouth with her hand. What if he took one look at her and laughed? What if she wasn't the Christine who could pull off fancy dresses and an evening out? What if he didn't want her?

"Are you all right?"

She watched the handle turn and held her breath.

"Christine?" The door opened a crack.

If she didn't want a babysitter, she needed to be a woman, and right as the door opened she put her hand down and straightened up, trying to strike any attractive pose.

Erik stepped into the room. "Christine?"

She waited, not moving not breathing.

He stopped. His gaze took her in from her head to her toes and he tilted his head. "Christine." He cleared his throat.

She needed to begin acting like a woman. She couldn't be afraid to go after what she wanted. While she wasn't sure what kind of woman she was before, she would just have to go with what felt right and she straightened up, jutting out her breasts and smiling. "Am I dressed all right?"

He blinked and for a moment she felt her shoulders slumping.

"You look magnificent." He focused on her chest.

"Thank you." This was the reaction she wanted.

"On our first night out I brought you something." He held up a finger and stepped outside the door.

She bit her lip. A proper date started with flowers, maybe candy. Dare she even think her ring?

"It's cold outside." He came back in carrying what appeared to be a bolt of cream-colored shining fabric.

He unfurled the cloth and put it around her, and only then did she notice it was a satin cloak. "This compliments your dress to a tee." With expert precision his long fingers fastened the jeweled clasp covering exactly what she wanted Erik to be looking at.

"Thank you." She should be flattered, but only ended up feeling as if she were a child who needed her mittens pinned inside her jacket.

"Shall we?" Erik offered his arm to her.

She nodded and took hold of him, looking down as they left her room. Her room. She sighed.

He led her down the two flights of stairs and to the front door, and while he moved ahead, it was her turn to stop. "Erik."

"What's wrong?" He opened the door.

She stared out the door. In the distance she could see the lights of Manhattan, the shadows of all the skyscrapers. A place where someone could easily get lost, especially someone who had no memory of ever being there and her only familiar person being a masked man. "It seems so big." She started to tremble. "We haven't been out this way since I woke up." She wrinkled her nose. For someone who wanted to be a mature, sophisticated woman she sounded like a toddler.

"Then it's about time we do." He put his hand on her back. "I'm with you."

She closed her eyes as they stepped over the threshold wondering if he really was with her.

"Shall we?" Erik asked.

Christine inhaled and forced her eyes open.

She glanced around. The street was dark, only a few lights to light the night sky. The other side of the street was lined with similar brownstones, this seemed safe, a simple neighborhood. She took two steps down toward the sidewalk.

A few cars buzzed down the street.

She took another step.

Another car whizzed by. This one seemed to be speeding.

She wondered if they were going to go in a car. Did Erik drive? Did she?

Erik stood behind her, she needed to get going, get on the sidewalk.

She hugged the cloak Erik gave her tightly around her and went to step down when a taxi flashed by her. She froze, another one came roaring by, this one skidded to a stop and honked. "Erik!" She spun around and reached out.

In less than a second his arms were around her. "Christine?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. Some woman of the world she turned out to be. Maybe Erik could give her a pacifier. She breathed in, normally Erik smelled of soap, but tonight a delightful exotic cologne wafted around him. Something earthy and spicy. He was a man. "I'm sorry."

"Never be sorry." He kneeled down. "It was the taxi."

She nodded.

"Well." He straightened up and tapped her. "I thought we would see the city at a little slower pace tonight. Look."

She opened her eyes and couldn't stop the smile as a horse drawn carriage trotted up in front of their home. "Erik."

"Fletcher is driving us tonight. I didn't want you around any unfamiliar people." He took her hand.

Fletcher turned and waved at her.

She waved back and looked up at Erik.

"Would you like to take a ride?" He motioned forward.

Her heartbeat sped up, not from fright, but excitement and she nodded. He thought of everything.

They made their way to the white carriage with the jet-black horse. She bit her lip when Erik took her by the waist to help her inside and ran her hand along the red velvet interior. With Erik in a suit and her in her dress, this felt very formal and old fashioned.

"I want you to see the city this way." He put his arm around her. "I never want you to be afraid when you're with me. The city can be a wonderful place."

She cuddled up next to him.

"We live in what is known as the Upper West Side." He told her as the carriage started down the street. "Now we are going to make our way through Midtown and Times Square and I thought we would circle back around and have a picnic in Central Park."

She hated that she had to be told simple things like where they lived but she closed her eyes trying to picture the map of Manhattan. Once she got her bearings, she opened her eyes.

He reached back and lifted a hood above his head, and then turned and did the same to her. "This area of the city is always crowded, but at this time at night it will be much less. Still, I don't want us to be interrupted by people gawking at your beauty, now everyone will just be wondering who you are." He touched her cheek and pointed ahead.

They were headed right toward the tallest skyscrapers. They seemed as if they could close in on them and she moved closer to Erik. "The buildings are so tall."

"They are your protection." He swiped his hand in front of them. "I always like to think of the buildings as oversized soldiers guarding us."

She looked up.

"The lights twinkling in the windows are the badges. These buildings have been here for decades and decades and they have earned their rewards." His voice was like a dream. "The lights can only be seen at night, that's why we only delve out after dark when the soldiers are awake to shelter us."

She let her eyes travel across the skyline. Lights of green, purple, yellow and red lit up the sky. Badges of honor. She inhaled and took the city in. It wasn't scary, it was magic.

"Now here's something very special." Erik pointed as they turned the corner.

"Oh my god." She wrapped her arms around Erik's arm. Now the twinkle lights of the buildings turned into a lighted moving mecca. "What is this?"

"This is Time's Square." He told her. "It is the heart of Manhattan, where the city gets it beat, and the light show, especially at night, can rival any show anywhere."

Fletcher slowed down, and she watched the waves of neon and fluorescent dance together selling their wares in the most incredible entertainment she ever saw. Here there was no trying to remember the cast of characters, or keeping up with the plot, here she could let her imagination run wild. "It's amazing."

They made their way through the lights and the city became serene. The smells changed from motor oil and food to grass and outdoors, and the clip clop of the horse's hooves mesmerized her.

"Never be afraid, especially of the night when we're together. Out here, the people dissolve and it is only you and me." He faced her. "You're safe with me Christine, I will never let anything happen to you again. Please believe me."

"I do believe you." How could she not? The man just turned a terrifying metropolis into a wonderland. Her heart stopped and she tilted her face up to his and licked her lips in anticipation.

"And now we come to Central Park, a little bit of calm." Erik suddenly stood as the carriage pulled over. He grabbed a basket and a blanket and held his hand out to her.

She inhaled, swallowed down the anticipation of a kiss and let him guide her over to a tree while he set up their picnic. She stared down at the grass, kicking it and kicking herself for wanting romance and kisses while Erik was doing his best to give her sanity and security.

"Come here, Christine." He motioned for her to sit down on the satin blanket.

Not wanting her heels to sink into the dirt, she tiptoed over, and sat down, smiling at the little display Erik made of fruits, cheeses, cold cuts and even a bottle of wine. She gave up on trying to force him and sat across from him. "Thank you for doing this."

"You are more than welcome." He adjusted a few things on the blanket. "Something is missing."

"What is it?" She watched as he stood up. He felt his pockets, first the pockets in his pants then his suit jacket.

She hoped this wouldn't ruin his time. "Is it your wallet? Maybe it fell in the carriage."

"No, I have my wallet." He reached inside his jacket. "Here it is."

She couldn't see what he found and was about to ask when instead of returning to his side of the blanket he came and sat by her. "Erik."

He lifted something. "I have something for you."

All she saw was a flash of red velvet and she straightened up. Memory or no memory she knew red velvet boxes held rings.

He opened his hand and what she assumed was a red velvet box was actually a small pouch. Rings didn't come in pouches, and she stayed still while her face heated up.

"I want you to have this." He opened the bag and pulled something out.

All she could do was focus in having no reaction, but a sparkle caught her eye. Before she could really get a chance to see what he had, he leaned forward and fastened a chain around her neck.

She looked down, the chain had a ring fastened to it, and she took the jewelry in the palm of her hand. The ring was gold and shaped like a rose, inside the petals was a huge round diamond.

"Just like the petals cradle precious stone, I want to protect you. This is a new ring, one for us, now." He said in a low tone. "We are still getting to know each other on this new plane, but I want you to know I am committed to us, and when you are ready I will slip it on your finger."

She opened her mouth, but had no words and her throat dried up. She loved the ring, never saw anything like it, it was beautiful and perfect, but she wanted it on her finger, not around her neck. She put the ring on her first knuckle, but didn't dare move it into place. Erik would have to do that, and she needed to make sure she made him. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. "Thank you, I love it." She raised her chin, slightly pursed her lips and waited.

"You are more than welcome." Rather than a kiss he touched the side of her face. "Let's toast."

She nodded. She would have to try harder.


	14. Chapter 14

Hi all, we apologize in the long delay between chapters, but Ash and I are proud to announce that we have SOLD our first story! This was a long time coming and we are so happy! Please make sure that you check out our facebook and our blog for updates. If you want to be put on update emails please message me here on Fan Fiction or let us know via facebook, blog or email.

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Chapter 14

A shadow in the hallway caught Erik's eye and he leaned back in his chair. After his evening with Christine his heart still raced. He wanted to run, jump, climb the walls, anything to diffuse his energy. Once she went to bed he settled for pacing in the downstairs library, listening to music and reliving every moment. He finally settled down with a Brandy and a book when a shadow appeared.

He lifted his book in an effort to appear as though he was reading, and praying his instinct was correct. He held his breath.

At last the shadow came to the door.

"Erik?" Christine whispered as she peeked into the room.

"Is everything all right?" He sat up.

"I heard the music." She held onto the doorjamb.

"I'm sorry if it woke you." He put the book down.

"No." She hooked her hair behind her ear. "I couldn't sleep and I was looking for you."

"Would you like to read with me?" He stood and held his hand out.

She nodded and came into the room taking his hand. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Never." He guided her around the coffee table and went to lead her to the chair next to his, but she stopped in front of his seat.

"I thought I would sit with you." She stared straight ahead, but remained stiff, affixed in her spot.

He glanced at the fireplace. It wasn't lit, yet his whole body heated. She was making a move toward him, or at least that was what he assumed. She had been doing so all night, and he didn't know what to do. He never expected her to want him, but if he wanted her, he needed to act. "Of course." He sat down and with his mouth half open he had no more words as she sat down on his lap.

He put his legs up on the ottoman and she curled up, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hand on the collar of his robe.

"Is this okay?"

He closed his eyes, trying to stop the dizzy, heady feeling swirling over him from the simple act of a Christine sitting on his lap. "Yes." He didn't even know how he managed to get that much out.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"I have never been more comfortable." He inhaled, forcing himself to loosen his muscles as he put his arm around her back. He lifted his book.

"What are you reading?"

He had absolutely no idea and turned the spine to figure it out. "Moby Dick. I have read it a hundred times."

She laughed.

"What?" He loved the sensation of her body vibrating against his when she chuckled.

"I have no idea if I read it before. I think it's a classic."

He laughed as well and opened the book to his page.

"Thank you for such a wonderful evening." Her nail traced the piping on his collar.

"I hope that is only the first of many more." He indulged and touched her hair. A smooth, satin ribbon rolling over his fingers.

"Me too." Her breath hit his neck.

He arched his back and they sat in silence for several minutes. He tried to look at the page but the words blurred together, and he put the book down.

"I'm bothering you." She pressed her hand to his chest to rise.

"No!" He held her. He couldn't have her leave now, he just didn't know what to do. All he wanted was hold her.

She stared at him, her eyes wide.

"Why don't we listen to the music together?" He wanted the gift she gave him back, and pressed her head back down on his shoulder. "Was something troubling you?"

"It's silly." She whispered in his ear.

"Nothing is silly." He leaned his head back on the chair. "Tell me."

"I think I had a bad dream." She told him.

His body tensed. "Dreams can be horrifying." He knew all too well what dreams could do to someone, and he prayed her memories weren't coming back to her in her sleep. "Do you remember it? Sometimes talking about it helps."

"I was running and it was so light out. I was all alone." She clutched his collar.

No, no memories and if it were memories they weren't good ones. He exhaled. "Never worry about that, it would never happen."

She pushed herself up and looked at him.

He saw the questions in her eyes, he also saw her studying his mask, but she never looked at him with revulsion. "I would never leave you alone long enough to ever be running around in broad daylight by yourself." He nodded. "That would never happen."

She turned down to his chest. "Do you mean that?"

He took his hand, putting his fingers under her chin and making her look at him. "I have never been more serious. Remember your ring."

She swallowed. "Maybe in my dream I was running toward you, and if I would have just stayed asleep a little longer it wouldn't have been a bad dream."

He ran his thumb along her jaw line. Her skin was perfect, simply perfect. "You said you were looking for me before." He wondered what caused her to search him out.

"I wanted to thank you for today and you weren't in your room. Then I wondered why you weren't asleep." She said.

"I tried to go to sleep, but my room seemed so confining and I needed to clear my head."

She copied his actions and touched his chin. "Our room is large."

"What?" He tried to look into her eyes, but she turned away. Still, a surge went through his body the way her voice lowered, husky but timid, innocent but sexy.

"Maybe you can't sleep because the room you are in is not really your bedroom, and maybe I can't sleep because I'm waiting for you."

Although he could only make out her profile, he watched the color appear on her cheeks, her eyes close and her long lashes trying to act as a makeshift veil.

Before he reacted he needed to make sure what she was saying. "Do you want me to sleep in your room?"

She put her hand to her chest. "You told me it was our room."

His lungs seemed to fill with liquid that he wasn't sure was drowning him or comforting him, and he forced himself to take a breath. Every one of his dreams about her led to this moment, and he wasn't the one asking for it, she was.

"I should go back to bed." Once more she tried to get off his lap, swinging her legs to the floor and getting up.

The day Anton gave him the opportunity to be a surgeon was a life changing moment. He could have said no. He could have run. He could have ended up living on the street with nothing and he would probably be dead or worse.

She stepped away.

Tonight Christine gave him the opportunity to share her bed, another life changing moment. He could say no and let her run. He could end up alone for the rest of his life, or worse.

He got up and lunged forward, grabbing her hand.

She stopped and turned back to him.

"I have been waiting for a long time for this." He pulled her toward him. "It will be good to share our bed."

Maybe tonight he wouldn't end up a criminal like the day he performed his first surgery. Maybe tonight he would be a man.

Christine ran the brush through her hair and stared at herself in the mirror. She got what she wanted and Erik was waiting in their bed for her. She made her move, she tried harder and it worked. Now would he kiss her? Make love to her? She put her hand on her stomach and took a deep breath.

She needed to join him. After smoothing down her nightgown, she put her hair over her shoulders, opened the door and turned out the bathroom light.

The light on the nightstand nearest Erik was casting a low glow throughout the room, and Erik lay in bed. The sheets were pulled back welcoming her, and he turned toward her.

He didn't say a word as she tiptoed toward the bed.

The distance to the bed seemed miles long. She was walking a runway while Erik's focus was on her alone. By the time she slipped between the sheets she was holding her breath. She put her head on the pillow and faced him wondering what to do next.

"Should I turn out the light?" Erik asked. His voice seemed worn, and tense.

"Okay." She bounced with the bed as Erik reached over and turned the light off.

Once more she waited, wanted to feel his arms around her, wanting a kiss, wanting anything.

Instead he turned to his back.

The room became silent and dark. More tomb like than when she would lay in here alone wishing to hear any signs of life from the other patrons of the house, wanting to see a flicker of light beneath the door. She couldn't even hear Erik breathing, as if he were trying not to make a noise.

She didn't move, and her muscles tightened. Erik wasn't going to do anything? She tensed, every limb seemed taught, ready to spring, and then she couldn't take it and raised herself up on her elbow. "Do you like being back in our room?" Right now couldn't fathom how that was possible.

Erik gasped and she balled her hand into a fist, he was trying to hold his breath.

He cleared his throat. "I am very happy."

There was no way this man could be happy. Erik may be able to take her out and turn nighttime into a magical wonderland, but right now this bed was hell. "Is this how we slept before?"

"We slept in this room," Erik said.

She knew that bit of information. Where as other things he told her seemed right, this wasn't. Something was wrong. He didn't want to be with her. "Together?"

"Yes."

"That's not what it feels like now." She forced her voice to stay strong for both of them.

"We are in this room," he said.

"Not together." She needed to say the words and grabbed her pillow.

"What do you mean?"

The bed shifted and she knew he turned toward her.

She didn't answer him. The tears began.

"Tell me, Christine."

"If you don't want me like this I understand." She finally said it.

"Christine, what are you saying?" He put his hand on her shoulder.

"You brought me home from the most incredible night and never kissed me, I came down and sat on your lap and you froze. I asked you into our bed and won't touch me." She moved his hand away. "I know you feel responsible for what happened to me, and I also know it must be exhausting to have had a life and for me not to remember it."

"Christine."

Now that she started, she had to finish and purge her system. "I've been having feelings like I know we were meant to be together, but I only know this, and you may not feel that way now." The tears began. "I know you're waiting for the old Christine to come back, and I'm trying but I don't know if she'll ever return. No matter what, I can't picture you and me ever lying in bed like two strangers." With the words out, she hid her face in the pillow and cried. The only thing she left out was that he wasn't able to put her ring on her finger.

Erik put his hand on her back. "Christine."

The sobs wouldn't stop, and she shrugged Erik's hand off her. "I don't need your pity." It may take her some time, but she would figure out a way to make it on her own.

"Christine." This time Erik took hold of her shoulder and pushed her back.

Now she needed to be strong. She didn't think she was a strong person in her last life, but this wasn't her old life. Not anymore. She took a breath, stopped crying and propped herself up.

She wasn't strong enough to face him.

"I can't pity you Christine."

"Whatever you call it, it's the sames" she whispered.

"Christine." He bent down. "Please look at me."

She turned her head. In the darkness she could only make out his shadow and the outline of his mask.

"I can't pity you. " He repeated. "I can't pity the woman I love."

Her arms went weak and she collapsed back on the bed. "What?"

This time she allowed him to turn her over. "Christine. Listen to me." He moved his face closer to hers.

"Never have better words been spoken to me and now you need to know this." He put his hand on her cheek. "I am not waiting for a life that once was, I love you how you are now. You are everything to me. You, exactly as you are this moment."

"Really?" She shut her eyes and inhaled for the first time in a long time. "What about before?"

"Before doesn't matter." He moved his face closer to hers. "Before was before, and now is now, and the Christine I have now is the one I want."

"Do you mean that?" She wanted to hear it again.

"I never say anything I don't mean." As he spoke, his lips brushed against hers.

"I know." She may not remember her past, but she knew Erik and she knew he spoke the truth. Her chest filled with love, pride, and dare she say, even happiness. She wrapped her arm around his neck.

"Then you know that the Christine of the present is who I want."

"Erik." She leaned up and joined their lips.

The kiss. A first kiss for this Christine, but muscle memory and the memory of two people meant to be together took over, something innate molding their mouths together, combining their tastes, and speeding her heartbeat the moment their tongues connected. A tentative touch that tingled through her and made her gasp.

Erik moaned and kissed her again. He moved to one side and took her in his arms.

"I've been waiting for you to hold me." She cuddled up to his side, smiling to herself as she realized how she fit against him. "Is this how we slept before?"

"I don't think it matters how we slept in the past." He pulled the covers up over them and held her tight. "I think it only matters how we sleep in the present."

"Me too." She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the spicy scent of his soap.


End file.
